Open Your Eyes
by ladycobert
Summary: Cobert Valentine's Day Smut Fic Exchange: Robert notices his new bride isn't very happy and so enlists Rosamund's help to plan something special to cheer her.
1. All this feels strange and untrue

Mid-February, 1889

Cora Crawley wasn't certain what she expected from her marriage – but it wasn't this. Indeed, when Robert Crawley, future Earl of Grantham, walked into the room at a ball during her first (and what turned out to be her only) season in London, he captivated her immediately. She knew that the Crawleys allowed him to pursue her, an American, for her fortune. She knew he didn't love her. But she'd imagined that somehow, someway, she might convince him to love her in return. Perhaps not straightaway after marrying, but within a few months.

But it appeared she hadn't. And, rather quickly, she became painfully aware that the life she had essentially bought with her fortune wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Not that her new husband was awful to her – or even that he ignored her. During their short, somewhat hurried, courtship, Robert Crawley had been impressed by the pragmatism and wit of his betrothed, and he was not disappointed after their marriage. In fact, he often sought her counsel and her company. Cora appreciated that he respected and requested her opinion, that he appeared to hold her in high esteem.

Their almost nightly encounters in the bedroom were not unpleasant. But neither were they the hazy, ecstatic experiences of which her closest friends from home had written to her. Robert was gentle, courteous, and did endeavor to please her. There was nothing to complain of there. However, of heat and passion – of love – there was nothing either. The air of duty forever hung over their bed, and afterwards, Robert dutifully put his pajamas back on and went into his dressing room to sleep, leaving his bride feeling quite lonely.

And loneliness overcame Cora as she entered her fifth month of marriage, despite the fact that Robert had become a sort of friend to her, despite the fact that she lived in a house with a mother- and father-in-law, as well as a veritable army of servants, despite the fact that she had chosen this. She hadn't anticipated being stifled by expectation, by scrutiny, by duty. She hadn't anticipated being homesick.

She hadn't anticipated having to tell her husband for a fourth time that there was no child, no potential heir, on the way. Or that she would be hurt that he seemed more concerned by this absence of a child than by the fact that his wife might be unhappy. She began to despair that the life she had chosen for herself, the man with whom she was still utterly besotted, in spite of everything, would never make her truly happy.

Cora's melancholy had not gone unnoticed, however. It affected the entire house. The young American mistress was held to high standards, and many occupants of the house were skeptical that she would meet them. She had won over many of them with her bright and cheerful disposition and her kind heart. Others had seen her potential by observing her shrewd intellect and steep learning curve. And if some still doubted, they were in the minority, and none could honestly say that they didn't like her. Over the past month, the cloud over her head became evident to everyone.

And, despite what she might think, her unhappiness was most acutely felt by her husband. Robert would be the first to admit that he married her for her money. No, he wouldn't have married just anyone, but if he had to marry an heiress, he had to confess that one reason he had chosen Cora Levinson was that, after just a few hours in her presence, he knew he would never, ever, be bored so long as she was around. Yes, she was rich. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she moved in the first circles in New York and Newport. But there was something else about her that appealed to him. Nothing he could put his finger on. Nevertheless, he knew it had to do with the fact that in the middle of another boring ball, with the same boring people his parents kept pushing upon him, she alone had made him laugh. She alone had made him want to dance. She alone had made him forget for a moment his life of duty and responsibility. She alone had made him willingly attend the next ball, knowing that he would see her again.

Many young ladies pursued him for his title, the pleasure of living on a grand estate. Somehow he knew that, although that might have brought Cora to England, to attend balls thrown by those who moved in the best circles, that her attention to him had nothing to do with that. That she could please her mother with the match proved merely a perk of the arrangement for her. Robert was keenly aware that Cora had fallen head over heels for him.

Cora had even told him once. He had not rebuffed her, exactly, but he didn't want to promise her something he wasn't sure he could deliver. He never wanted to hurt her. That much he knew to be true. He was honest with her, and she appeared to accept it. But ever since that time, which had happened a few weeks before their wedding, she had not ventured to repeat her declaration to him.

Robert did his best to help ease Cora into the life he had been born into. He paid attention to her, he walked with her in the afternoons, he memorized the things that made her smile. And, unbeknownst to her, he defended her to his mother. During the first months of their marriage, Robert not only got used to her presence, he found himself looking forward to seeing her, to talking to her, to bringing her small gifts, to simply sitting in the same room with her. He loved her smile, and he came to love even more when he was the cause of the smile that lit up her features.

Of late, however, her smile appeared less and less frequently. It pained Robert to think that she was unhappy. Despite what Cora thought, her happiness did concern him. And the more melancholy she became, the more aware he became of his desire to make her smile again.

It was Rosamund who came up with the plan. Robert had brought his concerns about his wife's happiness to his sister partly because he trusted her, partly because she and Cora seemed to have formed something of a bond, and partly because he was smart enough to realize that Rosamund was smarter and more worldly than he was, well beyond her years, even if she was his younger sister. If Rosamund couldn't help him, he despaired that anyone could.

After he told her what he wanted to do in general, Rosamund's forehead creased in thought for several moments. "Robert, you do realize that Valentine's Day is in two days, don't you?"

He hadn't, actually. "Rosamund, when have I ever had a sweetheart long enough to have to remember Valentine's Day?"

"Fair point, dear brother. But you're married now. Whether or not she's your sweetheart, you did just tell me you would like to see her happy. Perhaps a little romance won't go amiss?"

Robert cleared his throat. "But, Rosamund…. Will she misinterpret it? I – I don't want to mislead her. I would never hurt her."

Rosamund regarded her elder brother steadily and with no small amount of carefully concealed curiosity. And she wondered.

Turning his head slightly, Robert flushed a trifle under her unblinking stare. "What is it?"

She dismissed his query with a tilt of her head. "Oh, nothing." Picking up her teacup, she took a sip, then said to him, "Robert, I know, and I think Cora knows, that you would never do anything to hurt her. And that your affections for her are lukewarm at best." Rosamund was delighted to note that he flinched somewhat at this frank observation. "Do you want me to tell you what I think you should do?"

Nodding eagerly, he leaned forward. "Please, Rosamund."

"Get her away from Downton for a few days. Take her to London. Don't even stay at the house – stay in a hotel. Make reservations in one of the top restaurants for Valentine's Day dinner. And then – turn on the charm we all know you have, dear brother." Rosamund put her teacup down with an air of finality.

And so, it was set. Robert and Cora would spend three days in London, away from the prying eyes and provincial setting of Downton, with a suite of rooms booked at the Cavendish Hotel and a Valentine's dinner reservation made for two.


	2. We can do what we like anywhere

To be honest, Rosamund made all the arrangements for their trip. She had offered to – seemed pleased to – work out all the details for him. Robert, frankly, was relieved. He knew his efforts would inevitably be disastrous, as he was never any good at that sort of thing. He wasn't a romantic by any stretch of the imagination.

Not that he wanted the trip to be romantic. He simply wanted Cora to have a nice time, to forget herself for a while, to smile again.

Rosamund threw herself into the task so thoroughly that Robert wondered if plans with her own suitor had gone awry. She spent the whole next day in the village, and when she returned, with a sheaf of telegrammed responses to her enquiries and requests to London, she handed him a list.

"Now, here is the hotel information with the room number there," she pointed with her index finger as she talked him through the list. "There is the restaurant and your reservation, your train information, and, as I knew you probably wouldn't know what to get her, here is the name of the shop that carries her favorite perfume, and the name of the perfume." Rosamund looked at him. "Cora's almost out of it; she mentioned it to me the other day, along with her regrets that she hadn't bought more before she left New York. I asked around until I found where they carry it in London. She'll love it. You can nip out and get it whilst she rests from the train ride. Speaking of which…" she leafed through the stack of papers in her hand and pulled out two pieces of paper, handing these to him too. "Your train tickets."

Robert looked at her in awe. "You're bloody brilliant!"

Her lips twitched. "I have arranged for a few surprises for you both as well."

His face fell. "Rosamund… what did you do?"

Rosamund patted his arm and smirked. "You'll see." She sighed when his expression remained unchanged. "Robert, dear, it's nothing horrible. Don't you trust your sister?"

"Of course I do," he said, although his countenance was still skeptical.

"You told her, right? Told Cora to pack for London?"

Robert nodded. "She was somewhat surprised, Rosamund. We haven't been anywhere alone together since our honeymoon trip. But she agreed to it."

"Well then. It's definitely time for a few days alone." His sister grinned and raised an eyebrow. "I think it'll be a trip to remember."

Rosamund refused to elaborate upon this enigmatic remark.

* * *

As Robert walked through London the next day – Valentine's Day – he feared he'd made a mistake with this trip. "Why do I listen to Rosamund?" he muttered, knowing this was unfair, as nearly every other plan that his sister had hatched throughout their lives had had a way of working out – eventually. He sighed and hoped that this was one that would see positive results, if only eventually.

They'd left Downton early in the morning to catch the train. Cora's silence seemed louder to him than the noise of the train. As soon as they sat down, she pulled a book out of her handbag and disappeared behind it. When he did catch a glimpse of her face, it wasn't sulky or excited or even content. She just looked sad.

Robert buried his sigh and tried to concentrate on his own book. But he couldn't. He couldn't stop thinking about the girl he'd met at that ball all those months ago. The laughing, light-hearted girl who'd agreed to marry him. But that Cora seemed to have slipped through his fingers somehow, no matter that he'd done the best he could to make her comfortable in her new life. It saddened him too. He felt he'd let her down.

Only a handful of sentences were exchanged between them from the time they left Downton to the time they were shown to their quite opulent suite of rooms at the Cavendish. Robert left his valet to unpack his things in his room, and knocked on the door to Cora's.

Her lady's maid opened the door, and Cora looked up from where she was supervising her own unpacking. "Yes?"

"I have an errand to run, Cora, whilst you rest. I'll meet you in the sitting room at seven?"

Cora nodded, and Robert left.

Going to the shop on Rosamund's list, Robert purchased and had the clerk wrap the perfume. It was exorbitantly priced, but, upon smelling it, he knew it was worth every shilling, for he recognized it as part of her now familiar scent.

Putting the package in his coat pocket, he left the shop and began to walk back toward the hotel. He knew he could get a hansom cab, but he felt like he needed the stroll to clear his head. As the time for their "romantic" dinner neared, Robert grew increasingly nervous. He could see the plan Rosamund had developed for their evening so easily backfiring…. And Cora had been so quiet on the train. What could she be thinking now?

* * *

Cora truly didn't know _what_ to think. She was confused. Robert had walked in the previous morning and asked if it was alright that they go to London. For Valentine's Day. She had to admit that her heart had jumped at this, and she agreed to it.

But his behavior toward her was no different from before – well, besides being a tad more nervous. That evening they had resumed their nightly ritual, after being apart for nearly a week for her cycle, and it was the same.

On the train she found she couldn't even bear to look at him. Cora wasn't angry at him, but the thought of a "Valentine's trip" alone when nothing seemed to have changed between them…. She felt as if he was mocking her somehow.

Yet, she knew he wouldn't do that. Cora would be the last to deny that her husband had his faults. He had a quick temper, he misinterpreted things sometimes, he could be awkward and strangely shy about the oddest things. But one thing he wasn't was cruel or hurtful. And though he might not love her, she thought that perhaps he had at least grown fond of her.

Valentine's Day, however, wasn't for fondness. It was for love. Her heart ached, and, in a way she couldn't have predicted, the closer they got to London in their private compartment on the train, the lonelier she felt. She thought if she looked at him, she might cry. But she was a Levinson, and Levinsons persevered.

So she hid behind her book, and when they got to the hotel, she hid in her room, somewhat relieved that he had gone out.

Feeling refreshed after her nap, Cora took great care in selecting what to wear for dinner. She wasn't sure why, except that she always wanted to look her best for Robert, to make him proud to have her on his arm. Their match had certainly raised eyebrows, and many people in the Crawleys' social set continued to be cynical about his choice of an American bride. But Cora knew her own strengths and what mattered to this sort. She didn't agree with it all, but she could work within it. Just as she had with the household at Downton, she'd managed to make a few friends and gain a few supporters. But there were still so many to be won over.

If nothing else, she could cut a nice figure tonight at dinner and perhaps win a few more. She sighed to think that such frivolous things influenced people so, but it had been the same at home, and so she'd learned to use it to her advantage. And it was for him. Finding her place among his set, everything she did, really, was for him. Even if he didn't love her, it comforted her somewhat to know that he at least recognized and truly appreciated it.

Dismissing her maid, Cora examined her reflection in the mirror once more, glancing at the time. Almost seven. Dabbing behind her ears what little she had left of her perfume, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Robert turned from where he had just placed her gift upon a table and caught his breath at the sight of her. She was…. "Beautiful," he exhaled. Her dress was new, he thought, and was a vibrant azure, making her eyes stand out even more than usual. Robert swallowed and tried not to gawk at her. "I mean, you look lovely, Cora."

Cora's cheeks colored, and she lowered her lashes, smiling a bit. She hadn't expected his first unguarded response, and it made her cheeks tingle with pleasure. She still didn't say anything, but her blush and smile were all Robert needed in answer.

Pointing at the box on the table, Robert smiled. "I got you a gift."

Walking over, Cora picked up the box and unwrapped it. She looked up at him in surprise when she saw what it was. "Robert! But… where did you… how did you know?"

Robert leaned close to her and said in a low voice. "A little bird named Rosamund might have helped a helpless man find the right gift for his pretty wife."

Cora's stomach flipped, the same way it used to when she would catch him smiling at her from across ballrooms during the season. She looked up at him and said in a low voice also, "Thank you, Robert. It… it means a lot to me. It's my favorite."

Pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek (and did he hear a faint gasp from her?), Robert could smell the fragrance of her perfume. Stepping back, he replied, "It's my favorite too," and realized that it was the absolute truth.

She stood there, hardly knowing what to think. Then he picked up her evening cloak and held it out to her. "Shall we?"

Nodding, Cora let him put the cloak over her shoulders. She clasped it shut and picked up her muff while he slid into his own coat, then took his arm when he offered it. She felt slightly dazed as he led her out of the hotel and handed her into the waiting carriage.

Somehow, over the past quarter hour, Robert and Cora had switched places. Whereas Robert had grown calm, her blushes and smiles having set his mind more at ease, Cora's nerves had gotten to a point where she hoped she wasn't visibly trembling. Inside the dimly lit carriage, Cora could see that Robert's face wore a contented smile – that he kept turning upon her – and it set her heart aflutter. He didn't love her, she knew he didn't love her, and the evening wasn't about romance, but he'd stirred something in her already tonight that she had been desperately attempting to bury for over a month now.

Cora grew increasingly afraid that this stirring of feeling would get the better of her and cause her to do or say something foolish. She endeavored to keep herself from shaking, but it was no use.

Finally they arrived at the restaurant, checked their outer garments, and followed a waiter to a candlelit table that was elaborately decorated for the holiday. A bottle of the finest champagne already sat in its icer, and the waiter opened it immediately after handing them menus, pouring them each a glass and leaving them to decide what to order.

Robert lifted his glass, prompting Cora to do the same. He noticed that her hand shook a little, but he didn't say anything about that, merely pronounced a simple, "To us," before clinking his glass to hers and taking a sip.

Cora, however, didn't just sip. She nearly drained her glass with her first drink. Robert drew his brows together as he watched her, but, again, didn't say a word.

Clearing this throat, Robert perused the menu before asking, "Duck?"

Cora finished the few drops left in the flute before nodding. "Yes. That sounds nice."

"More?" he offered, picking up the bottle.

In answer, she held her glass out to him, and he filled it, his jaw nearly dropping when she did the same thing. Robert still had the bottle in his hand, and he blinked a few times in disbelief when she held her glass out again for a refill.

"Cora? Perhaps you should wait for them to bring the bread first."

Putting her glass down, she muttered something that sounded to him like "spoilsport," and began glancing around the room. The champagne had made her feel much less nervous, but it had made her head feel very light as well. Not that this was an unpleasant feeling at all. Cora's attention returned to their table once the waiter brought the bread basket. She picked up a roll and began to butter it while Robert ordered for them.

"Robert!" she said, shocking herself a bit with how loud her voice sounded. So she lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. "Robert, you should have a piece of bread. It's _very _good." Then she giggled.

Robert's eyebrows rose. _Oh my_, he thought. They really did not drink champagne very much, and now he remembered why. She'd gotten like this on New Year's Eve as well. He would have to keep it from her the rest of the night.

At the time they finished their entrées the plan had been thus far successful; Cora calmed down somewhat as they ate, and they both drank water, the champagne going untouched. Just after they ordered dessert though, an acquaintance caught Robert's eye across the room, waving him over. Asking Cora if it would be alright and getting a smile and nod of assent from her, he went over for a moment to say hello.

At least, he'd only meant to be a moment.

By the time Robert was making his way back to the table, the dessert had arrived, and evidently Cora had gotten the waiter to fill both their glasses again. Finding herself still nervous, and even more as the buzz from the initial two glasses had started to wear off, Cora had already drank her own glass – and was starting on his.

Just catching himself from bellowing at her from the middle of the room to stop, Robert sat down at the table, already too late. And even later than he'd thought.

"Two more glasses, Cora? Was that wise?"

Cora peered at him, "I don't know. Was it? And there were three glasses." She giggled.

Robert groaned. He'd seen men have to all but carry drunken wives from restaurants before, but he never thought he'd have to be one of them.

Suddenly she was crooking her finger at him. "I have something to tell you, Robert, but it's a secret. Come closer."

"Cora, I really don't think I should…." He looked around to see if anyone was listening to them.

She shrugged. "I can tell the entire restaurant. I don't mind who knows." Her voice had gotten slightly louder.

"For God's sake, Cora," he muttered, embarrassed, as he stood up, picked up his chair and put it down facing her where she half turned in her own chair. He humored her because he hoped to prevent her from shouting in what, especially on Valentine's Day, was a very crowded restaurant.

Cora grinned. "You have to come closer," she told him in that same hoarse whisper.

Feeling utterly self-conscious, Robert leaned closer to her, turning his head slightly so she could tell the secret in his ear. Imagine his astonishment when she put one gloved hand on the side of his face and turned it to kiss him full on the mouth. His eyes widened and he tried to pull away. Cora was having none of that and moved her hand to the back of his head to keep it just where she wanted it.

Cora rested her other hand on his knee under the cover of the tablecloth as she prodded his lips with her tongue, wanting desperately to deepen the kiss. Closing his eyes now, Robert opened his mouth to allow her tongue to seek his, forgetting for a moment where he was. This was beyond the chaste kisses they'd shared even in their own bed. Certainly, there had been open-mouthed kisses, but the way Cora kissed him now… there was a heat, an urgency, that he'd never felt from her before.

Robert liked it.

So for a little while, he lost himself in her kiss, still reeling to the point where he hadn't even put his arms around her. Then he felt Cora's hand begin to travel up his leg. Surely she wouldn't –

More abruptly than he would have liked, Robert pulled back, startling Cora so that she nearly toppled off her chair. Catching her neatly, Robert sat her back down, slightly harder than he meant to, and it was a wonder her teeth didn't chatter together. Cora merely giggled, grateful for once for the usually odious bustle that protected her hind quarters in this case.

"Are you stark raving mad, woman?" he hissed, his eyes virtually popping out of his head.

Cora only lunged forward again. He kept her at bay, holding her away from him by her upper arms. "Are you going to go to the other side of the table, Robert? I don't think I can stop," she whispered, slurring a trifle.

Robert stared at her, frowning, mumbling out of the corner of his mouth, "I can't just yet."

With the little movement his grip on her upper arms allowed, she moved a forearm and lifted a corner of the tablecloth to have a peek. "Cora!" he hissed, but not before she'd seen what he meant.

She giggled again. "Oh my. I suppose you can't, Robert. What shall we do while we wait here?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner.

Robert turned bright red. "Cora, please, stop," he begged her in a soft voice, becoming aware that people had begun to stare at them.

Cora heaved a great pitiful sigh. "Fine." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as best she could while he still had a hold of them. "Can I have more champagne?"

Robert let go her arms and watched her for a moment to make sure she wouldn't move. Then he reached across the table for the champagne bottle, watching her face brighten. He poured a glass and picked it up. Before Cora could uncross her arms and snatch it from him, he drank it down himself. He felt he needed it, perhaps had even earned it. When he poured a second and drank that down as well, Cora let out a squawk.

"No fair!" she cried, beyond realizing where she was or who might be watching. Then she started to pout.

Finally able to stand up, he carried the chair and champagne bottle back to his side of the table.

Looking at her pathetic face, Robert started to chuckle. "Cora, if you eat all your dessert you can have one more glass of champagne. But just one."

Robert poured himself another glass while her eyes lit up and she started in on her dessert. He was starting to feel nice and relaxed himself, and he found that he wanted a repeat of that kiss. He grew warm thinking of it, and he knew he would have to get her back to the hotel before letting her kiss him again.

Or perhaps just the carriage.

Almost like a child finishing a meal, Cora pointed to her plate, elated, when she'd eaten all her dessert. As promised, Robert poured her another glass, and, thinking _what the hell_, poured the last of the bottle into his own. They toasted once more, and suddenly it hit Robert how much he liked Cora's wicked smile and the mischievous gleam in her eyes as she drank down the champagne.

Perhaps Rosamund's plan was working after all.


	3. I want so much to open your eyes

As the carriage pulled away from the restaurant, Robert wondered if he'd made a mistake about Rosamund's plan working. Cora had gone quiet again.

After the business of the bill, Robert helped his giggling wife to stand, sliding an arm firmly about her waist to guide her to the coat check. Cora grinned at him as he draped her cloak around her shoulders, clasped it for her, and tucked her hands in the muff. She leaned against the wall, watching while he put his own coat, hat, and gloves on, thinking how magnificent he looked.

They stood together just outside the restaurant, waiting, their carriage somewhere in a long queue. Robert's arm was around her waist again to steady her. The cold air had cleared Cora's head a trifle, and she glanced at the other couples waiting for their conveyances. All the ladies were standing straight, their hands atop their husbands' or beaus' arms most properly – not swaying against their escorts dizzily while they held them up.

Cora's face fell. In her desire not to make a fool of herself, to calm her nerves with a drink or two, she'd overstepped the mark – and by no small amount – and had made fools of them both. She'd been loud and ridiculous, had kissed him and even groped him, in a public place. And, worse, where at least one acquaintance of his had been present. She was certain there would be talk. And she was certain that, even if he wasn't showing it now, Robert was disappointed in her.

The one thing Cora had wanted to do that night, since she knew romance was too much to hope for, was to conduct herself with grace and dignity, to make Robert proud. And she'd failed. Miserably.

And that's how she felt now. Miserable.

Miserable and still very drunk. Their carriage finally pulled up, and as Robert helped her in, she stumbled, and he caught her, laughing lightly. _Oh God_, she thought. _I am a subject of derision even to my own husband._

Robert settled beside her as the carriage door shut, but felt her shrink back from him. And she was too quiet. Something was wrong.

Concerned, Robert looked at her face in the dim light of the carriage lamps. She was still flushed from the champagne and the cold, and at first he thought she'd fallen asleep already, but the faintest movement of her eyelashes told him she wasn't asleep, merely looking down.

"Cora?" His concern for her came out in his voice, as he thought she might feel ill. "Are you alright?"

Raising her eyes to meet his, she said, "Yes, Robert. I'm fine." He didn't look angry or disappointed. And he wasn't laughing at her. Actually, he looked somewhat relieved at her words.

"Then," he lowered his own eyes before he continued, lowering his voice as well, "might you kiss me again? Like you did in the restaurant?" He felt himself blush that he would ask such a question of her and then lifted his eyes, almost afraid of her response.

Robert was grateful that he had looked up. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have seen the complete transformation her expression underwent – from sadness and distance to relief and joy in a matter of moments.

Because in those few moments, Cora (still inebriated and so her wits a trifle slow), thinking about his tentative query, his tone, his countenance, his blush – she thought she detected… disappointment. But not in her outrageous behavior. It was disappointment that she might not repeat it – that part of it, at least. She was sure that it had been – and would be – no small concern to him how they'd appeared to others; nevertheless, he wasn't concentrating upon that. Whether it was because he was too drunk himself to care or not, he wasn't thinking about that.

Robert wanted her to kiss him again. Which meant…he must have enjoyed it.

Cora smiled at him, gratified when she saw her own smile reflected on his face. She moved closer to him on the seat, leaned forward, and kissed him. Taking one gloved hand out of the muff, she gently stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.

This time, not having been blindsided, Robert slipped his arms beneath her cloak and around her waist, pulling her closer to him. And when her tongue ran across his lips, requesting entry, he immediately, willingly, complied.

Within a matter of moments, Robert wanted nothing more than to be nearer to her. He wanted to touch her skin, hold her against him. But he knew that nearly everywhere his hand could travel while they continued to kiss, ever more intensely, he would meet fabric. Yards of it. The steel boning of a corset. The padding of a bustle. He also knew enough about women's fashions from having to listen to Rosamund prattle on about it all that even if he was bold enough to lift her skirt, underneath would be another and another and, as it was winter, probably several more layers under that.

It was enough to drive a man mad.

And he felt he might go mad. His senses were filled with her, and her tender touch on the back of his head combined with her fevered kisses intoxicated him more than the champagne had. He needed to feel her skin.

Tugging off one of his gloves behind her back, he left one arm securely around her waist, bringing his other hand up to touch her face gently. After a few seconds, his hand trailed down to her throat, caressing it before moving down to press the flat of his palm to her skin just below her collar bone, his fingers playing with a ringlet from her coiffure that rested there.

Then, not sure how she would react, he moved his hand again, tracing his fingers tentatively over her décolletage, ready to stop at any moment if it made her uncomfortable – and hoping that it didn't.

Robert felt her gasp against his mouth, but she didn't pull away from him, and she barely even paused in her kiss. This emboldened him, and he repeated the action, this time lingering several more seconds with his feather light touch upon these upper curves of each breast. Cora, being more modest about such things than most women, had her evening gowns cut with a slightly higher neckline than was strictly fashionable, but as Robert considered it now, in some ways it was even more tantalizing. It left him wanting more.

When Robert grazed his fingers there once more, Cora made a guttural noise of pleasure. She removed her other hand from the muff. But as this hand began to travel up his leg, Robert – more aware this time of what she had in mind – moved his hand to cover hers, stilling it. She drew back from him, disappointed.

"Cora," he said, quietly. "We're nearly there, and I don't want to have to sit here awkwardly in the carriage whilst recovering from your touch before we can go inside," he explained, bringing her gloved hand to his lips and kissing it, his voice dropping to a whisper, "where I do hope we can continue."

Cora grinned at him. "I would like that very much," she whispered back.

Robert kept hold of her hand while she kissed him softly on the cheek, aware that they had arrived at the hotel and not wanting to delay any future events further.

Slightly less tipsy now, Cora managed to exit the carriage and enter the hotel without stumbling, her arm resting properly upon his. Of course, in this instance, after what had happened during their return journey, she rather wished for an excuse for his arm to steal around her.

Once inside their suite, they parted ways, like a proper married couple, but not before Robert whispered to her, "I'll knock on your door in a little while. To continue where we left off."

Grinning at each other, Robert and Cora disappeared behind their respective bedroom doors.

Neither had to wait very long for lady's maid and valet, Robert having stopped downstairs at the desk to request that someone summon them to their suite.

Unexpectedly, each servant carried something to give to mistress and master.

Cora's maid presented her with a wrapped box. When asked from whence it came, the maid answered that Lady Rosamund had given her specific instructions to give this to her after she returned from dinner that night. With curiosity piqued, Cora unwrapped and opened the box. Nestled on top of the tissue paper was a note in Rosamund's hand.

_Cora, darling_, she read. _A gift for you on Valentine's Day. Use these well, and remember that a little imagination can go a long way_._ With warmest affection, Rosamund _

Parting the tissue paper, Cora pulled a dozen silk scarves in a variety of sizes and colors out of the box. They were exquisite, but Cora wrinkled her brow trying to make out what Rosamund might have meant in her note. _Use these well_. Shrugging, she set the scarves aside and had her lady's maid begin undressing her, puzzling over the cryptic message and gift.

And then, an idea broke through both her mystification and the haze of intoxication that remained, and Cora grinned. Her lady's maid carefully hid her surprise when her mistress issued her next instructions: to let her hair remain loose, to leave her chemise – her last remaining garment – on her rather than put her in her nightdress, and to bring more candles in from the sitting room and put them around the bedroom instead.

Once the candles had all been lit and things had been tidied for the night, Cora dismissed her maid and took off the chemise, draping it over a chair and pulling the box of scarves toward her. Her maid had wanted to put them away, but Cora had stopped her. Her imagination had taken hold of her, for better or for worse.

In the meantime, Robert's valet walked into his room with a bucket of ice containing a bottle of champagne, two champagne flutes, and a note. Handing his master the note, the valet put the other items on a table and began his tasks.

Upon reading the note, Robert chuckled. "Rosamund, you never cease to amaze me, you meddlesome sister, you."

Her note read: _My darling brother, I hope by now you have figured out a way – or maybe many ways – to make Cora happy on this trip. If not, perhaps this will help you with your self-appointed (and might I say, very worthy) task. Have a lovely Valentine's Day evening. Love, Rosamund_

Robert supposed this was what she had meant yesterday by surprises for them both. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he wondered if Cora had gotten something as well – and what it might be.

As much as he would like to hurry his valet along, Robert knew it would take Cora much longer to change than it would him, so he just kept wondering and let the man go at his own pace. Soon enough, he was outfitted in his night attire and his valet left the room.

Sitting down to wait for a little while longer, to give her enough time to finish undressing, Robert thought about their dinner and the carriage ride. He grinned, but then he started pondering over her actions. Were they merely the result of overindulgence? What if it wore off and she decided she had made a mistake? That she didn't want him to go to her after all? Robert frowned. This would make him not only disappointed, but it would actually hurt. He wasn't even sure why.

Standing again, he went to open the champagne and poured some into each glass. He drank one of them – Dutch courage in the face of his misgivings – before filling it again. Taking a deep breath, Robert picked up the glasses and left the room.

Robert felt relief course through him at hearing Cora's "Come in!" after he knocked on her door. When he opened it and saw her, he felt as if he couldn't breathe. Once he did finally catch his breath, he exhaled a drawn out, "Oh… my… God…."

Cora stood in the middle of the candlelit room, her dark hair curling around her bare shoulders. She had wrapped one of the largest silk scarves, an emerald green one, around her and tied it closed below her right shoulder. Only it didn't quite meet, and as she stood there nervously with her weight on her left foot, the tiniest sliver of the curve of her naked hip was visible to Robert. Visible too were most of her long, shapely legs, as the scarf didn't quite reach mid-thigh. Her face was crimson and a timid, expectant smile upon it after watching him gaze at her appreciatively. Her blue eyes shone exceptionally bright.

Blinking, wondering if he might be dreaming, Robert stood there, gaping. He'd never actually seen her this… bare before. They had always been together in that respect in the dark, and generally her nightdress remained on. So, of course, it must be a dream. And he couldn't move for fear of waking.

Tilting her head, frowning, Cora took a step forward. "Robert? Is something wrong?"

Robert swallowed several times, as his throat seemed to be stuck. When he found his voice, he said, "No. There is most certainly nothing wrong." He shook his head gently and smiled at her. It wasn't a dream. And his earlier uncertainty about whether she wanted him here or not was completely dispelled.

Crossing the distance between them, he handed her the champagne glass and leaned down to kiss her cheek gently. Her half-naked state notwithstanding, Robert didn't want to frighten her by being too forward. Besides, he quite liked standing half a pace from her to take in just how luminous and stunning she was. At least – he liked it for now.

Cora sipped the champagne this time, watching him beneath lowered lashes, finding herself pleased with the way he was looking at her, smiling at her. Finishing her glass, she set it on the mantel. "Come with me," she whispered and took his hand.

Letting her lead him to a corner of the room to have him sit on the chaise lounge there, Robert too finished his champagne while his eyes remained fixed upon her, still utterly dazzled and amazed. Taking his glass from him, she walked across the room to put it next to hers, knowing his eyes were following her movements. Then she retrieved the box of scarves from her dressing table.

Standing in front of him, Cora grinned. "Robert, I do want to continue where we left off. But first I want to play a little game." She giggled.

Robert's brows rose. "A game?"

Cora nodded and walked around behind him, pulling out a scarf. "We'll call it a form of Blind Man's Bluff," she whispered into his ear. "Only you'll stay seated."

"I don't understand." He turned around to look at her.

"Eyes forward," she laughed. "I'll explain while I put the blindfolds on."

"Blindfolds? As in more than one?" He was beginning to wonder if that one glass of champagne had made her drunk all over again.

"Yes." Very gently, Cora began tying scarves over his eyes. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and when you get one right, I will not only remove one blindfold," she bent and whispered in his ear again, "you will get a treat to one of your other senses."

Grinning once more, Robert sat up a little straighter on the chaise, liking the sound of this game, as well as the mischief in her voice.

"But," she continued, tying one last scarf over the others, "if you answer a question wrong, you not only don't get a treat, but I put one of the blindfolds back on."

"What kind of questions?" he asked, feeling a bit disoriented with eleven scarves tied over his eyes.

"No, no, now, Robert." Her voice was stern. "I ask the questions." Then she giggled again.

At first the questions she asked were ridiculously easy: what was her mother's name, where had they first met, etc. And for every right answer, as good as her word, she would untie a scarf and throw it on the bed. Then she would reward him. For hearing she would whisper something salacious in his ear or sing a verse of a bawdy song for him. (He had no idea she knew any bawdy songs, but he liked that she did, more than he probably _should_ like it.) For smell she would put her hair to his nose so he could smell her lavender soap and once she brought her perfume bottle over so he could inhale its fragrance. For taste she had a box of chocolates, but he liked when she rewarded him with a kiss even better. She concentrated on these three senses mainly, while the questions were easy, but when she got down to the last few questions, the more difficult ones, she upped the ante.

Several scarves had to be tied around his eyes again as he answered questions about her best childhood friend or her favorite meals from home incorrectly. She knew he couldn't possibly remember everything she told him, and they were still getting to know one another, but when he did answer one of these tougher questions correctly, her heart would jump a little. And she was happy to reward him with the sense of touch – once taking his hand and running it along her bare hip, once bringing it to her abdomen to rest (making her stomach do a flip), for example.

Robert's head was swimming as she concentrated on each of his other four senses in turn, and this was really the only reason he couldn't answer the more difficult questions correctly. He actually knew all the answers to her questions but was having trouble keeping his head clear enough to respond. And after he had answered the question correctly that enabled her to remove the next to last blindfold, she took his hand and slipped it beneath the silk fabric still wrapped around her to have him cup a breast. That combined with her soft sigh at his touch him drove him wild, and he desperately wanted to continue where they'd left off in the carriage.

Now his head was spinning even faster, and he wasn't sure he could answer any more of her questions correctly in the state in which she had gotten him. And he wouldn't be able to stand it if she put a blindfold back on him. The game had been fun, but now he was very ready to be done with this teasing before it became more like torture.

Cora was silent a moment, affording Robert time to collect his wits. When she asked her next question, it was in a different voice, serious instead of playful, quieter.

"Why did you bring me on a Valentine's Day trip, Robert?" She had to remind herself to breathe while she waited for him to respond.

He took some time before he spoke, not having been ready for that particular question, and knowing that "because Rosamund said I should" was not the answer she would want. In fact, Robert wasn't so sure that _was_ the real answer. Yes, she _did_ tell him to, and she did plan the whole trip, but that wasn't why he'd gone to her for advice in the first place. It was because Cora was unhappy, and he'd wanted to make her happy again. And the idea sounded to him like the perfect one. He'd even had an argument over it with his mother when he told her they were going to London for a few days, as she thought taking a "Valentine's trip" ridiculous. But he wouldn't cancel it.

Thinking about it now, he became confused as to why this seemed the best option to cheer her. All he knew was that Rosamund's words about his affection for Cora being "lukewarm" had stung. Perhaps his affection had been, in the beginning, tepid, but sitting there, blindfolded, listening to Cora's somewhat irregular breathing, he knew it wasn't the case anymore. And now Robert's head spun for a different reason.

Robert didn't think he loved her – he wasn't even sure he knew what that felt like. What he did know was her happiness had become at least as important to him as his own. If not more so. Why else would he allow his sister to plan a "romantic" trip for them or defend it to his mother? His affections were well beyond "lukewarm."

And when her smile had all but disappeared from the rooms and halls of Downton, he felt he had lost his own smile as well.

No one in his entire life had affected him even close to that way.

Finally, he answered her. "Because, Cora. I wanted – needed – to make you happy. Somehow. You're my wife. We share a life together. Do you think I haven't noticed how downhearted you've been? I…." He had to pause to take a deep breath. "I wanted to make you smile again. Like you used to do. I've missed it."

The silence that followed this unnerved Robert. "Cora?" He removed the blindfold. She knelt close to his feet, looking up at him, her eyes filled with tears.

Alarmed that she might cry, he sat down on the floor beside her. "Cora, I'm sorry if that was the wrong answer. I just thought—"

Cora turned her head toward him. She was smiling. "No," she whispered. "No, it wasn't the wrong answer at all."

"Then why do you look like you're about to cry?" He rubbed her back comfortingly, forgetting her state of dishabille entirely, more intent upon stopping her tears from falling.

"Sometimes I cry because I'm happy." Cora laughed a little at the look on his face.

"But I've never seen you cry when you're happy." He drew his brows together in confusion.

She grew serious again, fixing his eyes with an intent gaze. "I haven't been this happy since I left home."

Robert took her hand, feeling again as if he had let her down. "I'm so sorry, Cora. I should have done more, been more for you since our marriage. I never wanted you to be sad."

Smiling, she touched his face tenderly. "It's not your fault. I know you're doing everything you can, Robert. It's just different from what I thought it would be like. I went into it with eyes open, but still…. I'll be fine." She brushed his hair back from his forehead before repeating, "I'll be fine – now." It wasn't a declaration of love, but she knew now that at least he cared about her. Cared whether she was happy or not. For now it was enough.

Looking down at her hand in his, he took a deep breath. "Cora, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course you may."

Now that he had the opportunity, he wasn't sure how to ask the question in a way that wouldn't hurt her. "What do you- How do you- I mean, do you feel-"

Cora chuckled. "Robert, whatever it is you're asking, it's better to just ask."

He raised his eyes to hers. "Do you still feel the way you did? The way you told me before we married?" Robert wasn't even sure why he wanted to know. But after her reaction to his answer to her question, he just… did.

She gazed at him almost a full minute before slowly nodding her head. "To be honest," she whispered, "I may be even more infatuated with you now than I was before."

Robert thought his heart might have skipped a beat. He knew what it cost her to say it, knowing he couldn't say it in return.

Yet, after she said that, she added, beginning to smile, "Enamored." She kissed his cheek. "Smitten." She kissed his temple. "Besotted." She kissed his chin. "Enchanted." She kissed his neck….

While she continued this way, Robert sat still, quite jumbled up. He felt undeserving of the exquisite creature who sat next to him pressing kisses to his face and neck, undeserving of her love for him. It made him feel terribly guilty. Except… she'd said she was happy now and that it would be fine. He wanted to believe her, and as he watched her, listened to the loving words she spoke, felt her kisses, he thought maybe it would be.

And then Cora moved from words to actions, kissing him on the mouth in the same manner she had earlier. She wanted to show him, if she could, how much she loved him, even if he didn't feel the same. She wanted him to look at her again the way he had before dinner, the way he had when he'd entered her bedroom earlier.

Robert let go her hand to wrap both his arms around her, to pull her onto his lap. And now there were no garments in the way to thwart his desire to touch her soft, silky skin. While his tongue explored her mouth, his hands began exploring her body in a way he'd never done before, reaching beneath the scarf wrapped around her. It pleased him to feel her shudder and sigh at his touch.

Then, all of a sudden, he felt her pull away from him, and he opened his eyes as she stood up, stepping a few feet away. He couldn't tear his eyes from her as she reached up to undo the knot in the green scarf, letting it fall away, her face turning crimson. But her eyes were bright and a saucy smile had come to her lips.

Robert sat there, speechless, dazzled. His eyes ran up and down her body in a way that made her blush creep down her throat to her chest. Finally, he stood up and walked over to her. He took her hand and kissed it, then looked in her eyes. "You're beautiful, Cora." When she looked down, blushing even more furiously, he put his other hand under her chin to lift her head back up. "Beautiful."

Cora's smile widened and she leaned up to kiss him, becoming increasingly fond of that particular activity. Robert's hands roamed over her again, caressing her back, trailing down to press his hands against her bare bottom. She gave a little squeak at this, surprised, but not displeased. Cora's hand strayed one more time below his waist, and this time he neither pulled back from her nor stopped her. Instead, she grinned against his lips to discover that he was already quite aroused, and she moved her hand over him gently through his nightclothes, grinning even wider when he groaned.

And suddenly, he needed to feel her skin against his. He took one step back and within a few quick motions he stood naked in front of her. But when he reached out to wrap his arms around her again, she held up her hand.

"Wait," Cora whispered, her eyes slowly moving over his body the same way he had done with her.

Robert felt undone by her steady appraisal of his naked self. When her eyes met his again, she was smiling. He smiled too. He decided he liked being undone by her.

He continued to stand there, waiting for her to approach him again, needing to feel her hands and her lips and her tongue once more. Cora finally took a few steps closer, putting her hands on his chest, playing with the soft hair there, her hand grazing against a nipple. "Oh God," he moaned, closing his eyes.

Cora's face lit up. "Well, well. I think this is going to be terrific fun," she whispered as she touched a fingertip to his nipple again, realizing that she enjoyed making him moan.

Robert didn't want her to stop. He threaded his fingers through her hair, and bent down to kiss her neck, delighted when her heard her gasp of pleasure, even as she continued to run her fingers over his chest, over his nipples, his groans muted against her throat.

When she brushed one of her hands over his arousal once more, the fingers of her other hand gently tweaking his nipple, he wasn't sure he could hold on much longer. He needed her. "Cora," he breathed against her neck, his voice soft but urgent.

"I know," she whispered. "Me too." And she meant it. She'd never felt such heat or need for him before.

Robert lifted her up, his hands under her buttocks, carrying her to the bed and laying her down upon it, climbing up next to her, then settling himself between her legs. He looked in her eyes and brushed her hair back from her face. "Cora?"

Nodding vigorously, Cora squirmed beneath him. "Please, Robert. Please, now."

Lifting her hips, Robert entered her slowly, watching her face, then began moving. She instinctively wrapped her legs around him, and he moved his hands up under her back, leaning down to kiss her mouth and then kissing down to her breasts, teasing her nipples with his tongue, both discovering how much she enjoyed it. Her fingers twisted themselves into his hair, until she was arching her back and panting, waves of incredible pleasure washing over her, her eyes wide with the feeling, crying out, never knowing it could be like this.

Listening to her cry out her pleasure, feeling her tighten around him in a way she'd never done, sent him reeling, and he groaned deeply against her neck where his head had come to rest, thrusting into her one last time before collapsing heavily against her.

For a little while, they lay there, collecting themselves, catching their breath, swimming in euphoria. Then Robert rolled off her, lying on his back. And Cora felt a stab of doubt. Would he just pick up his nightclothes and leave like always? She didn't want him to.

She felt him move again, climbing off the bed. So he was leaving. She felt empty. Sitting up, she pulled the bedclothes over her. He was putting his nightclothes on.

"Robert?"

She sounded somewhat fearful to him, and when he looked at her, he was sad to note that she'd covered herself up. "What's the matter Cora?"

"Are you really going?" Her voice trembled.

Robert almost chuckled, but he believed that might be a mistake. Instead he walked over and sat next to her on the bed. He picked up her hand and kissed it, giving her a soft smile. "No, sweetheart. I'm just going to get the bottle of champagne from my room." He watched relief wash over her face, her smile returning.

"Well," she said. "Don't be long, Robert." She kissed his cheek and watched him disappear, leaving the door open.

He had called her "sweetheart" – whether he realized it or not – and he was going to get champagne and come back. To her. Cora thought she might burst with happiness.

When Robert did return, he filled their glasses, and they drank and talked and laughed, and then they embarked upon their mutual discovery of one another's bodies all over again.


	4. They don't get your soul or your fire

Bright sunlight spilled through a crack in the curtains, hitting Robert in the eyes and waking him.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, covering his eyes with his right hand, his head throbbing.

It took him a few seconds to realize that his other arm was draped across something soft, warm. Uncovering his eyes and squinting against the light, Robert looked down to where Cora's head lay upon his chest, his arm across her shoulders, her dark tresses streaming across his chest and arm. Luckily, his mumbled oath hadn't woken her, and her face was relaxed into such an aspect of serene contentment that it made him smile despite his headache. Her body was curled against his under the blankets, her arm wrapped around his waist, her right leg flush with his left, her left leg stretched out over his thighs.

Lying there, feeling the small, steady movements of her chest next to his as she breathed, appreciating how stunningly beautiful she was even in repose, and noticing the calm that attended his own mind and heart just because she rested there against him, Robert wondered why he'd never stayed the night with her before. Honestly, he knew he hadn't because he'd been taught that spending the night with your spouse, actually _sleeping_ together, was not proper behavior for an aristocrat and that very few married couples shared a bedroom – and those who did were gossiped about most mercilessly. But letting his eyes travel across Cora's face, he thought that perhaps most aristocrats were simply fools. Or perhaps not so fortunate as he.

Because he _was_ fortunate. Robert thought over the night before, the scenes in restaurant, carriage, and bedroom coming back to him as he glanced around the room, where his nightclothes lay over the chaise longue, scarves were strewn over the bed, one green scarf lay upon the floor, two champagne glasses stood atop the bedside table, an empty bottle of champagne sat on the mantel, and every candle in the room was completely burned down. They hadn't fallen asleep until the wee hours of the morning, when intoxication and exhaustion had finally gotten the better of them. Robert knew men – friends, acquaintances – and heard stories of other men whose wives didn't want their husbands even to touch them unless completely necessary. But Cora had invited him into her bedroom, into her bed.

And, he knew, into her heart.

Cora's words raced through his head again: _I know you're doing everything you can, Robert. It's just different from what I thought it would be like…_. _I haven't been this happy since I left home…_. _I may be even more infatuated with you now than I was before…. It wasn't the wrong answer at all…. Are you really going?_

It occurred to Robert how much Cora had actually been asking, saying, with that last question. It was almost as if she'd said, "Please don't leave me. Not now. Now that we've shared this."

It hurt to think that she'd thought he would leave. _But I always had before, hadn't I? After doing my duty to Downton and lying with her merely to try to produce an heir? I'd always left her. Lying there alone. _It was the way of things wasn't it? But suddenly it struck him as contemptible and felt himself a cad.

Last night, he'd had no desire to leave her. Robert had felt drawn to her, and not just physically. When he'd come back with the champagne it had been a while, possibly several hours before they were together again. He wanted to be with her, to hear her voice, to hold her hand, to share her thoughts, to listen to her laugh… so happy to see her smile again.

As Robert looked down at his wife's face, he vowed never to leave her alone that way again. And to make it up to her for the four months he _had_ simply gone back to his room after being with her. If it took the rest of his life to do it.

Gently, he lifted his arm from her shoulders and stroked her hair, loving that she had left it loose. A delight for his eyes alone. He didn't want to wake her, but he wanted her to wake. Robert had been seized with a most desperate desire to gaze into her blue eyes and then kiss her, slowly and intensely.

It wasn't too much longer before it appeared the sunlight woke Cora as well. She moved her hand to cover her own eyes, and then Robert felt her go rigid against him.

Cora had realized he was still there, they were still naked, and she thought his hand was on her hair. It had to be a dream. He couldn't have spent the whole night with her. It was too wonderful to be real.

With her eyes covered, tentatively she whispered, "Robert?"

He answered in a low voice, "Yes, Cora?" He thought maybe she was apprehensive because they were undressed, had to this point only seen one another by candlelight, and, knowing she was usually modest about such things, not sure what to do about his seeing her in daylight.

Cora, however, had no such thing in her head. Her body relaxed against his again as she heard his voice and felt him resume stroking her hair. It wasn't a dream. _With the pounding in my head_, she thought, _ I should have known better anyway_.

"How much did we drink last night?" she inquired, her breath warm on his skin.

"Two bottles I think at the restaurant, and a bottle here."

"I have the most dreadful headache, Robert." Her hand remained over her eyes.

Robert hoped her head didn't hurt as much as his did. He chuckled softly. "So I imagine, Cora. We don't usually do that."

"For good reason, I see." Robert felt her smile against him.

Sighing a bit, Robert touched her cheek. "I know you would probably like nothing more than to lie in bed all day, but I assure you it will be better if we get up and have some breakfast."

"You have some practice in this?" She didn't move.

"Some. There were some lads in school in the habit of overindulging. I didn't participate very often, but I was almost always around for the aftermath. Trust me, Cora. We should get up. Perhaps we can walk around London once we've eaten and dressed?"

Cora groaned, turning to bury her face in his side. Her voice was muffled when she asked, "You promise my headache will go away?"

Robert chuckled again. "I can't promise it will go away, but it will definitely ease some if you have some food and we get some fresh air." He paused, then added, "Well, as fresh as you can get in London, anyway."

Taking a deep breath, she acquiesced. "Alright, Robert. You win." She lifted her head and propped herself up on her elbow, scowling at him.

"Now, don't look at me like that. I'm only trying to help you. How can I take that frown away?" He sat up, pulling her up beside him, putting his arm around her shoulders.

Cora grimaced as she worked to keep the pleased look from her face and sustain the scowl. "Well, I don't know." She turned away from him to hide her expression.

Robert wasn't sure if she was teasing him or not. "Would a kiss help?" he ventured.

Keeping her face averted, she mumbled, "I _suppose_ it might." She found she quite liked teasing him a little.

Catching her slightly off guard, Robert took her chin in his hand and turned her head toward his, leaning down to kiss her, deepening the kiss almost right away. Bending her back upon the pillows, he ran his hand down her body to rest on her hip.

Lifting his head again, he smiled, looking into her eyes. "Did it help?" he whispered.

Awestruck, Cora nodded.

"Do you need another?" He smiled even wider.

"Yes, I think another would-"

He interrupted her, his mouth covering hers again, his hand moving between her legs, causing her to gasp with pleasure and surprise. He'd discovered the night before that if he touched her there in certain ways, in certain places, she'd sigh and moan and yelp against him in a way that was most marvelous, gratifying him to no end that he could cause her such bliss.

"Robert…." she moaned.

Concentrating upon what he was doing, Robert thought that Cora was merely expressing her approval of what he was doing. Kissing her neck, he continued his attentions between her thighs.

Cora realized she had failed to get his attention. When he'd moved his head to kiss her throat, she'd noticed the clock. "Robert…" she nearly hissed this time, tugging a little on his hair.

The change in her voice combined with the pain caused as she pulled his hair when his head was already thumping finally got his attention. "Ouch, Cora! Am I hurting you?"

"No, not at all. It's wonderful."

"Then what's wrong?" He sat there, catching his breath, a puzzled look on his face.

Cora giggled. "My maid will be here any minute to wake me with a breakfast tray. And your valet is probably in your room right now scratching his head and wondering where you are." She continued to giggle.

"Oh," he said, somewhat disappointed. "Right. I suppose I should go."

"Robert, don't look so glum, darling." His heart jumped a bit at the endearment. Cora pulled his head to hers and whispered into his ear. "We shall meet again in just a little while, we'll take a lovely walk together, and then, this afternoon…." She paused to nibble on his earlobe, then continued, "…you will be all mine again until the dressing bell."

Drawing his head away, his face was painted with a wide grin. "It sounds like a good plan." He kissed her once more, tenderly, before caressing her cheek and getting up.

"Might you hand me my chemise, Robert?" Cora watched as he picked up his nightclothes and began putting them on.

"Your what?" he asked, fumbling with his buttons.

"The white garment lying across the chair at the vanity." She pointed and giggled again.

"Yes, right." He handed the garment to her, grinning. "I'm sure your lady's maid would be utterly scandalized to find her mistress in this state of undress, wouldn't she?" He kissed her cheek before walking over to put on his dressing gown.

"Utterly," she agreed, grinning, slipping the white undergarment over her head and tugging it down over her, then pulling the bedclothes up around her again.

Pausing at the door, Robert turned and looked at her, smiling. "Cora?"

"Yes, Robert?" She smiled back at him.

His face grew serious. "I had an excellent Valentine's Day – and night – with you."

Cora's eyes softened, and she looked at him tenderly. "So did I."

Robert smiled again. "I'll see you in just a little while, Cora."

She nodded and smiled, a lump in her throat preventing her from speaking.

Closing her door, Robert turned, almost colliding with the maid who was hurrying to bring her mistress her breakfast tray.

"Pardon me," Robert apologized. Clearing his throat, a bit flustered to be found outside his wife's door in his dressing gown, he added, "Good morning. Er, let me." The maid appeared to be too astonished to speak, her eyes about to pop out of their sockets. Reddening, Robert opened the door for her, taking one last glance at Cora, catching her eye and winking at her and causing her to turn red as well, before closing the door again.

* * *

Robert and Cora set out a couple of hours later, Cora having chosen a dress that Robert had admired on her once before. Robert told her how very fine she looked, smiling as she took his arm, but he couldn't get the image out of his head of her in the emerald green scarf, the porcelain curve of her hip just visible, teasing him, her hair falling loose over her shoulders. He wasn't sure any dress in her wardrobe could come close to that.

They walked along, no fixed goal in mind, wandering in and out of shops, talking, stopping to chat with acquaintances, many of whom they had not seen since the end of the Season. Robert glanced at her furtively, impressed anew at how she carried herself, at how she appeared oblivious to the sometimes pointed remarks directed at her and her American-ness (although he knew she was all too aware of them), and at how she could often bite back with her quick wit and subtlety, in a way that often left the recipient with a dazed look on his or her face, Robert sure that they were wondering if she had meant her statements as digs, or had made them in all innocence.

Robert found himself admiring her all over again, as he had during their courtship. And, now, months later, he actually admired her more, because he better appreciated how much courage it had taken her to leave everything she had known behind and embark on this life. With him. No matter how undeserving he was.

For her part, Cora was rather relishing taking the snobby and intolerant among her husband's acquaintance down a peg or two. Just because she was an American and new money didn't make her rubbish. Certain drunken behavior last night aside, she was a lady, raised among the upper class, associating in highest circles in America, and as much as these people's petty remarks might cut her, she knew that she was every bit as good as they were.

And, what was more, she knew Robert knew it too.

The two shared luncheon and then took a long walk in Hyde Park. Several hours later, they decided it was time for tea. They found a tea room, speaking briefly with a few more couples they knew, but ultimately settling down for an excellent tea, sharing long looks and cheeky grins, not heeding the people around them.

Pressing Cora's hand, Robert stood up. "I'll take care of the bill. I won't be long, and then we can walk back to the hotel, yes?" He looked at her hopefully, a gleam in his eye.

Cora grinned. "Yes."

Robert left the table, and Cora glanced back behind her to watch him go before she turned her gaze around the room. Finishing her tea, she looked up again to find a gentleman standing by their table.

"Why, if it isn't the future Lady Grantham!" he said, picking up her hand and kissing it warmly.

"Sir Alistair, how nice to see you again. Please, sit a moment and tell me how you've been." Cora indicated a chair next to her. "Tea?"

"Yes, thank you." He sat next to her and smiled. "I must say, you're looking very lovely, my dear."

Pouring tea, she blushed and smiled. "Alistair, don't call me that. I'm a married woman now."

Returning from settling the bill, Robert froze when he saw Cora sitting at their table with a man he thought he recognized from somewhere. He'd come back just in time to hear his wife's last comment, and he was curious to find out what this was all about. Spotting a fern against the wall only a few steps away, Robert quietly stole behind it, crouching a bit to be sure he was completely covered, straining his ears so he wouldn't miss a word.

"Yes, you're a married woman. You could have been married to me, if you wanted." Alistair kept smiling at her, sipping his tea.

Cora put her hands in her lap, sitting up straighter, a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Yes, I know. You asked me enough times."

Robert held his breath. This was news to him. He thought he had been the only one to ask her to marry him.

Alistair cocked his head at her. "Why didn't you accept?"

"It's complicated, Alistair." She looked down, spinning her wedding ring around on her finger.

Putting his teacup on the table, he leaned forward slightly. "Does he love you? I did – do."

Cora lifted her eyes and thought about lying to him. Instead, she shook her head. "No. He doesn't."

Robert felt his chest constrict painfully at the sadness in her voice. _But I want to make you happy_, a voice screamed inside his head. _Didn't you say you were happy?_

"You deserve love, my darling. You deserve to _be_ loved." Alistair leaned even closer to her, saying in a loud whisper that Robert could still hear in his hiding place behind the fern, "Let me love you."

Astonished and confused, Cora drew back from him a trifle. "Alistair… what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want you, Cora." He whispered softer now. "Please, let me come to you."

Feeling his blood boil and his head about to explode, Robert nearly bowled over the fern to wring the fellow's neck. How _dare_ he! How dare that despicable cad proposition _his_ wife!

But Robert stood still. For some reason, possibly some masochistic one, Robert wanted to see how she responded. He peered between the fronds of the fern to see what he could of her face.

Cora blanched. "Alistair!" she hissed. "How can you ask me that?" She desperately wanted to escape. What on earth was taking Robert so long with the bill?

"You just said your husband doesn't love you. You must be terribly unhappy. And I'm sure he isn't satisfying you the way he should. Perhaps he can't. But you're a beautiful woman, and I would love to be the one to satisfy you." Alistair touched her arm, a smirk on his face.

Turning even whiter, Cora jerked her arm away, and stood up abruptly, knocking the chair back behind her. Her voice shook, but she said loudly and clearly, "He may not love me, but I love him. And he makes me happy. Very happy. _And_ satisfied." She trembled, her chest heaving with emotion.

Alistair stood as well, not even bothering to whisper now. "Oh, my lovely. Don't be like that. We can have a little fun of our own, can't we?" He raised his hand and touched her cheek.

Cora's face turned red now, her eyes flashing in anger. But before she could even push his hand away, Robert came charging toward them, like a bull with a red flag waving in front of him. Seizing Alistair roughly by the collar with his left hand and dragging him a few steps away from his wife, Robert punched him soundly on the jaw, then shoved him backwards, causing the man to stumble and fall.

By this juncture everyone in the tea room had gone quiet, watching the scene unfolding in front of them. Sprawled on the floor, Alistair held his jaw and glowered up at Robert, who loomed over him, fists still clenched and his breathing heavy. Standing up against the table, her fingers curled beneath the edge of it for support, Cora continued to tremble, her eyes wide and moving from one man to the other, waiting to see what would happen next.

Robert pointed the forefinger of his left hand violently at the man lying at his feet. "If you ever, _ever_ touch my wife again – if you ever so much as approach her again – I guarantee you'll end up with more than a broken jaw!"

Turning on his heel, he took Cora by the arm and steered her away, not giving the man a second glance. Guiding her to the foyer and helping her on with her coat, he winced as he used his right hand. Once out on the sidewalk, Robert hailed an hansom cab and bundled Cora into it, wanting to get back to the hotel as soon as possible.

Cora bit her lip, seeing that his face was still thunderous and that he cradled his right hand in his left. She leaned toward him. "Robert, I –"

Robert shook his head. "Not now, Cora."

Nodding, Cora shrank back again, looking out the window, not wanting him to see her tears at how angry he sounded, how angry he must be at her for what happened.

Feeling her move away from him, he looked at her face, thinking he saw sunlight glistening off the one part of her cheek he could see – tears. God, what had he done? He'd punched a man and it had upset her. Why couldn't he for once have kept his confounded temper?

The rest of the drive was silent, Cora attempting to surreptitiously remove all traces of tears with her handkerchief as they approached the hotel. Robert helped her out of the cab with his left hand, drawing her arm through his.

"I'd like my maid, Robert," Cora said quietly as they neared the desk in the lobby.

Robert nodded, and they went to the desk to make this request, and for Robert to ask that some ice be brought up.

When he held the suite door open for her, Cora swept past him, going straight to her room and closing the door, not even sparing a glance for him. Robert heaved a great sigh and sat down on the settee, waiting for the arrival of ice, moving his fingers gingerly to ascertain how much damage he'd done to his hand, wondering how much damage he'd done with respect to his wife.

Before too long, Cora's maid entered, bearing ice. Thanking her, he watched her knock on Cora's door and go in. For the few seconds the door was ajar to admit the maid, Robert could see Cora sitting on the bed, her hand covering her face.

_Damnit_, Robert thought. _Damnit._

Applying ice to his hand, Robert sat there, drowning in his own wretched contemplations. He looked up hopefully when a little while later the door to Cora's room opened, but her lady's maid simply closed the door behind her, walked past him with a polite nod, and left the suite. He continued to stare at the door, remembering what they were meant to be doing right now and cursing himself for ruining it – and not even ruining that in particular, but ruining their time spent together, however they were going to spend it. Cursing himself for causing her to feel like there needed to be a door between them. Hating that she had shut him out.

_Well, am I just going to sit here like an idiot? If I've done the harm, the least I can do is try to fix it. I'm supposed to be cheering her up, not making things worse_. Robert got up, putting the handkerchief filled with half-melted ice aside, and walked to her door, knocking upon it with his left hand. "Cora?"

"Come in." At least she didn't sound like she was crying.

Robert took a deep breath and opened the door. Cora sat across the chaise, a book in hand. It was upside down, and she seemed to be staring at it without really seeing it.

"Cora, please look at me," he entreated her.

Blinking a few times first, she raised her head, her eyes meeting his. He looked…dejected.

"I want to apologize for my behavior back there. I shouldn't have let my temper get the better of me. I made a scene, and I'm sure I embarrassed you. I'm…." He took another deep breath. "I'm so sorry." She didn't move or speak, so he went on. "I just got so angry at the – the _audacity_ of that – that villain…" He stumbled over his words, getting upset all over again thinking about it. He began to pace, his unhurt hand curling into a fist. "How could he presume to talk to you that way? To _you_?" Here he began mumbling, his eyes on the floor, still pacing, shaking his head. Cora thought she heard him say, "…most magnificent creature on earth…sully the very air she breathes…would have liked to have wrung his blasted neck…."

And Cora realized he hadn't been angry with her at all. He'd simply been angry. She ventured to interrupt his muttering tirade. "Robert?"

He stopped, lifting his head to look at her. "Yes, darling," he said rather absentmindedly, his head still full of what he would love to do to that rascal.

Cora's heart beat faster. "In the cab? You weren't upset with me, were you?" she asked. But it was less a question and more of an appeal for affirmation of her thoughts.

Bringing his mind completely back to Cora, he looked shocked. "Why would I be upset with you? You were the one wronged, Cora – by him and by me!" Forgetting his injury, he jabbed himself in the chest with his right hand, then let out a yelp of pain.

Tossing the book aside and jumping up, Cora hastened to him, taking his hand by the wrist, looking at the red patches on the backs of his fingers. "Robert, let's go into the other room. You need to keep ice on that." She led him over to the settee and sat beside him, pulling her own handkerchief out of her pocket, putting ice in it, and, resting his hand on hers, applied the ice to his fingers as gently as possible.

Robert watched her attend to his hand with quiet tenderness, flinching slightly when the ice touched his fingers. Then he asked her calmly, "Cora, what made you think I was upset with you?"

She shrugged a little, feeling a bit silly about it now, her eyes remaining on his hand. "You didn't want me to talk to you about it. In the cab."

"Oh, Cora. I'm sorry if you thought that meant I was upset with you. I merely needed to calm down first. Otherwise I would have ended up shouting. That fellow had me seeing red. And – my hand hurt. I couldn't concentrate," he ended pathetically.

"And I'm sorry I assumed you were angry at me." She picked up the ice-filled handkerchief and examined the backs of his fingers again. "Do you think anything is broken?" She finally looked up at him in concern.

"No, I don't think so." He flexed his fingers, grimacing, but able to move them fully. "They just…hurt. Probably bruised." He lifted his eyes to hers. "I do hope I actually broke that bloody bastard's jaw, though. He deserved it."

Cora chuckled softly. "Alistair always was a bit too insistent."

"He asked you to marry him a number of times, you said." Robert refused to use the blaggard's name.

"I didn't know you heard all of that. I could be mad at you for not coming to rescue me sooner, you know." Before he could respond to this, she continued, "Yes, he asked me no fewer than ten times over the Season, I'm sure. His persistence and his impatience are not the reason I said no to him, but they confirmed what I'd already thought about him." She looked down at Robert's hand again, tracing a finger lightly over the red spots on his fingers. "I told him no because my heart already belonged to someone else."

Robert gazed upon the top of her head where it was bent over his hand, watched her fingers trace over his own. Exhaling very slowly before he spoke, he said, "To me."

Looking up at him, she nodded at him, with a small smile. "To you." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed each red mark oh-so-gently. "My protector." As she put the ice back on his hand, her expression changed, and she looked down again. She seemed perplexed. "Robert, if you heard our conversation, why didn't you come sooner?"

Embarrassed, he cleared his throat, struggling to figure out how to say what he needed to. "I wanted to hear what your answer was. What your answers were to his questions." Saying this, remembering the night before, he knew it was stupid, and he felt horrible.

Cora wasn't sure how to react to this. Hadn't she made it clear already that he was the only one she wanted? "I don't understand. Why?" Her voice got very small. "I thought you would know the answer."

"He offered you something I haven't. He said he loved you. And I heard how sad you were to tell him that I didn't. I was… I was jealous." He almost strangled over the words.

Her eyes flew up to meet his. "Jealous?" Mixed in with the confusion and surprise was a kind of hope on her face.

Robert nodded. "Yes. But then you told him you were happy with me despite everything else, and I felt like I could breathe again. And then, he.…" His brows drew together with fury at the very thought. "He said those things, making those insinuations, and he dared to touch you, and I just – I couldn't hold on anymore. I could have done more than punch him. I certainly wanted to."

Cora's eyes had taken on a tender aspect as he told her this. She smiled at him. "It's a good thing you didn't. You might have actually broken your hand. And then we wouldn't be able to carry out our planned afternoon very well, could we?"

The way she looked at him made his breath catch. "So, you forgive me? For eavesdropping? For doubting you? For making a scene? For being a world class fool?"

She kept smiling at him, nodding. "Yes. I forgive you. For all of that."

It was his turn to be perplexed. "How? Why?" He was convinced more than ever that he was the most fortunate of men to have such a wife.

Reaching up to touch his cheek, Cora whispered, "Because you were jealous. Because you got angry on my behalf. Because you punched a man who had the gall to ask me to be his lover. Because you were afraid that I might say still say yes." Tears glistened in her eyes.

Robert wasn't sure exactly how all of these things added up to forgiveness, but he was relieved that she was willing to give it. "What could I ever do to deserve you?"

Cora's tears would not be held back any longer. As they fell, she looked at him raptly, adoringly, whispering again. "Robert Crawley, you really don't understand why I chose you, why I fell head over heels for _you_, do you?"

He reached his other hand up to wipe her tears away, resting the hand on her cheek. He shook his head. "No. I don't." He knew the reason her mother had allowed the match was for his title and estate, and he knew Cora married him because she'd fallen for him. But he was still baffled as to why. Sir Alistair, for all his persistence, was far more handsome and probably more charming than he was. And perhaps knew how to keep a woman happy, whereas Robert was still finding his way around, as it were.

Lifting his hand from her cheek, Cora knitted her fingers through his, then moved closer to him on the settee, her eyes shining. "I chose you for so many reasons. Every person I talked to – even the ones who described you as shy and awkward, or that you had a temper – also described you as kind and considerate. That you were intelligent and well-read, but never sneered at those who weren't. And I could see for myself that you were decent, caring, and honorable." Then she lowered her eyelashes, a blush creeping into her cheeks. "Not to mention almost unbearably handsome."

Robert chuckled, "'Unbearably handsome'? I think Rosamund and most of her friends would beg to differ." He rubbed his thumb across her hand.

Cora looked at him square in the eye. "Rosamund isn't the one looking at you. I am. I don't think you know how you set my heart beating when you looked at me, smiled at me, for the first time across that ballroom. I didn't know at the time who you were or that I would fall so completely in love with you. But, oh, my darling, I did. And I've never regretted it."

Finding he couldn't tear his eyes from hers, Robert gazed at her. "Cora," he choked out. "Never? You've never regretted it? Even this past month or so?"

She appeared near tears again, but she only shook her head, slowly. "No. Not even then." She turned her head. "I've been gloomy, Robert, I'll admit. And I'm sorry for it. I've been terribly homesick, and I've felt very much alone, and not a little out of my element." Turning her head back to him, she smiled. "But I've never regretted choosing you."

Robert cleared his throat, feeling near tears himself, something that almost never happened to him. "I've never regretted choosing you either." He squeezed her hand. "Ever. And I do want to make you happy. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more."

Cora's smile widened. "I'm glad to hear that, Robert." She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, hesitantly, but also expectantly.

Untangling his fingers from hers, he placed his hand behind her head, pulling her closer, kissing her more intently. Hearing her sigh – a contented, happy sigh – he deepened the kiss even more, teasing her tongue with his.

After a few moments, Cora broke the kiss, looking at him tenderly, running her hand through the dark hair at his temple. "How is your hand?"

Robert had actually forgotten about his hand, lost as he was in her words and her kiss – and in his own musings. "I think it'll be alright."

Removing the ice, Cora examined it again. "They're still red," she said, referring to the backs of his fingers. "Are you sure nothing's broken? I would hate to think you broke your hand because of me…. Although…." She blushed again. "I have to admit, watching you punch someone – for _me_ – it was quite exhilarating."

"Was it?" He grinned at her. "You looked terrified."

"I was. But also… exhilarated. It was so… masterful, Robert." She barely stopped herself from giggling like a schoolgirl.

He liked that she thought of him as "masterful" although he doubted he was, and he looked at her properly for the first time since they'd left the tea room. She was decked out in a somewhat loose, frilly, satiny garment in a soft yellow. He ran his hand along a ruffle on the bodice. "Well, if you say so. All I know is I was angry at the fellow, and he deserved it – and more." His eyes remained on the dress. "What do you call this? I'm not sure I've seen you wear this before."

Cora's lips twitched. "It's a tea gown, Robert. And I generally only wear it in my room before dinner. It's comfortable, and it allows me to breathe properly without that horrid corset." She watched Robert's eyes move over the gown. "Also, I don't need my maid to get in and out of it."

Robert's eyes fastened upon hers, and a grin wreathed his lips. "Really? I'm liking the sound of the 'tea gown' more and more. No corset you say?"

At the shake of her head, Robert, feeling both an ardent need to please her and very bold, lifted both his hands and cupped her breasts through the gown. Cora closed her eyes, tilting her head back slightly as he moved his thumbs over her nipples through the fabric. "Robert…" she breathed.

"You're not nearly close enough," he said, putting his hands around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. Capturing her mouth in a kiss, he caressed her delicate curves through the gown until he could bear it no longer. Robert began groping with fastenings, desperate to touch her skin again.

"Robert!" she exclaimed. "You'll tear it!"

"I can't help it," he whispered huskily against her neck. "You drive me quite mad with desire, sweetheart."

Her heart running wild at this unexpected endearment, Cora touched her lips to his ear. "Tear it, Robert. Please."

As she continued to nibble on his ear, Robert ripped the tea gown open at the seams, finally freeing her of it completely and flinging it onto the floor. Then she moved away for a minute to divest herself of several petticoats, her chemise, and then her drawers. All the while, Robert watched her, fascinated, tugging off his cravat, jacket, waistcoat, shrugging off his braces, and beginning on his shirt buttons.

"Let me," Cora said, moving toward him, capturing his right hand and kissing the back of it tenderly. "I don't want you to hurt your hand more." Smiling at him, she slid the buttons out of their button holes and pushed the shirt off his shoulders, then started with his trousers.

Robert closed his eyes. He'd never had a woman undress him before, and he was having a difficult time keeping control of himself, wanting so much to rip off his own clothes and cover her with his body. But her concern for his injury was genuine, so he made a concerted effort. He did so want to please her.

Finally able to throw his trousers with her gown, he stood and made quick work of the rest of his clothes, standing naked – and very aroused – before her. Smirking, Cora looked up at him from her perch on the settee, then wrapped her fingers around him. "Oh, God," he moaned, closing his eyes. She reached her other hand around his behind, pulling him closer to her.

When he stood with his knees against the settee, Cora tentatively leaned forward and….

"Cora!" Robert looked down at her, shocked but also thrilled.

She drew back a little on the settee. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. Only, I read of it in a book, and the results seemed so pleasing…."

Clearing his throat, noisily, he remarked, "Although I'm slightly appalled at your choice of reading material, I must admit that I am curious to know the results." He had the grace to blush at this, and Cora, grinning, applied her mouth to him again, teasing him with her tongue.

Feeling as if his knees might buckle after several delicious moments of this, he whispered hoarsely, "Cora… I think I need to sit. What you're doing… it's most superb, but…" She released her hold on him, and he sat down beside her, breathing heavily. Looking over at her, he said, "Good God, woman. Will wonders never cease?"

Giving him a saucy look, she kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, "Let's hope not."

Robert grinned widely. "Thank heavens you're a reader." He winked at her.

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "I've always thought that women's education is very important."

Chuckling, Robert wrapped his hands around her tiny waist. "I think you have a most excellent argument for it, if you ask me." He pulled her toward him and kissed her.

"Robert," she whispered against his ear a few moments later. "I need you now."

He loved hearing her say that. "Shall we go into the bedroom?"

Cora surprised him by saying, "No, I want you right here."

Before he could utter another word or even twitch a muscle, she was straddling him on the settee, hovering over him, then settling down upon him, giving a sigh of relief when he was inside her.

Robert's eyes bulged with astonishment, amazement, awe – and delight. Cora's breasts were pressed up against his chest, and her eyes were very close to his. "Cora." He licked his lips. "Something else you learned from a book?"

"No, darling. Just something that seemed obvious and natural to me." Cora started to move against him, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through them both. Resting her hands upon his chest, playing with the soft curls there, she gazed at him and whispered. "Why? Does it not feel nice?" She leaned even closer to him, whispering against his lips. "It does to me."

Not even sure he was capable of speech, Robert simply nodded, closing his eyes. Trusting his instincts, he slid his hands beneath her buttocks to help her set up a rhythm that pleased them both, each gasping and moaning, until Cora's cries became short and sharp, almost squeaks, her head thrown back. Robert bent his head down and gently bit one of her nipples. At this, Cora groaned, sitting down hard upon him, pressing herself against him.

Feeling her convulsions and tremors around him was too much, and he also moaned deeply and became still, wrapping his arms around her back and embracing her, breathing hard into the hollow between her shoulder and neck.

When he could breathe enough to speak again, Robert, holding her close, said to her, "I knew, Cora, that when I chose you, I would never be bored. But I never counted on anything like this. You amaze and astound me." She drew back a little to look at him, her own heart still beating hard from their exertions. Robert continued, "And I'm not speaking only about this sort of thing." He grinned. "I mean, like this morning, how you were with those foolish people. You're extraordinary, Cora." He took her hand and kissed it, smiling warmly at her. "I adore you."

Cora, a bit overwhelmed with the pleasure of their activities and with his tender words, felt her heart become full with emotion. Managing not to cry, she whispered, "I adore you too," before kissing him tenderly and wrapping her arms around him.

The way Robert had started to speak to her, to look at her… it gave Cora hope.


	5. Knot your fingers through mine

Cora decided that the tea gown could be salvaged, given a good seamstress, but she certainly couldn't put the dress back on that afternoon. Robert and Cora laughed as they dressed themselves again as best they could, in order for their attendants to undress and dress them again for dinner. Laying the tea gown across her bed, Cora shrugged her dressing gown on over her underclothes, knowing it was the best she could do.

"It seems somewhat ludicrous, Robert, when you think about it." She grinned up at him, standing in his embrace for one last time before they would each disappear into their rooms to wait for valet and lady's maid.

"What's that, Cora?" He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose.

"That we're essentially hiding the fact that we've been intimate most of the afternoon from our own servants." She chuckled and ran her fingers along his shirt front. "I'm sure they'll figure it out."

"Well, if they do, they do. But I'm not about to disclose the nature of our relations to my valet. It's none of his business."

"No. It isn't. Let them think what they like." She smiled at him. "Besides, it's not as if we're unmarried."

Robert's smile reflected her own. "No, it's not as if we're unmarried. I feel most fortunate that we are, Cora – more than I thought I could feel."

"We should go to our rooms now, I think. They'll be here any moment." Cora leaned up to kiss his chin, pleasantly surprised when he tilted his head down to cover her lips with his.

"I rather enjoy kissing you, Cora Crawley." He grinned.

"And I enjoy being kissed." She pulled away from him reluctantly, taking his hand and examining it. "Are you sure it's alright?" She kissed the back of each finger gently as she had done earlier.

"It will be fine, Cora. Your careful ministrations have made all the difference, I'm sure."

"To your hand, or otherwise?" She smirked at him.

Robert grinned even wider. "Both." Kissing her forehead again, he drew his hand away. "I'll see you in a while."

Cora nodded and they parted, retiring to their own rooms. It wasn't very long before valet and lady's maid arrived. If Robert's valet wondered about the odd condition of his clothing – for the cufflinks were the opposite of way they should be and his cravat was in a ridiculously hopeless state – he kept his observations and conclusions to himself, saying nothing as he dressed his master for dinner.

Her lady's maid did show a certain amount of dismay when she entered the room to see her mistress in her dressing gown. Walking over to the bed, the maid studied the ripped tea gown, before fixing Cora with a bewildered look.

"It got caught on something and tore." Cora blushed, knowing her maid would know it wasn't the truth from the amount of damage done. But she also knew she wouldn't comment upon it.

And she didn't. She simply handed Cora a letter before turning her attention to her tasks.

When Cora stepped out into the sitting room later, dressed for dinner in a frock of deep crimson, she brought the letter with her.

Kissing her husband on the cheek, she held it out to him. "We've been invited to a ball tomorrow night. Lady Margaret and Lord Henry are giving it."

Perusing the invitation, Robert looked at her. "We're set to go home tomorrow afternoon. We'd need to arrange to stay another night in London in order to attend."

"Would that be so bad?" she asked, resting a gloved hand on his arm.

Looking at his wife in her crimson flounces, with her blue eyes turned up to his expectantly, he could think of nothing he'd rather do than to have another day and night away from Downton with her. "No, it wouldn't be bad at all." He kissed her cheek, then guided her across the room to the desk. "Let me go ahead and compose a telegram to Mama and Papa, and you write an acceptance to the invitation, yes?" Smiling at her, he took up a piece of paper, a pencil, and a book to press down upon, leaving her at the desk with the pen and ink well.

Sitting down on a chair, he wrote out a telegram, happy to note that while there was still some pain, his fingers appeared to be working perfectly normally. He finished and glanced up to see if Cora had as well.

Standing up several minutes later, having sealed the note, she walked over and handed it to him. He took it from her and tucked both notes into his pocket in order to help her on with her cloak.

"We'll leave these with the desk. They can take care of them." After they had donned their outer garments, he held out his arm to her. "Shall we?"

Cora smiled at him. "We certainly shall, Robert."

* * *

"It's ridiculous! What is he thinking?" Violet Crawley read the telegram again, mystified.

She and Rosamund sat in the drawing room with their needle work the next morning. Violet had taken the telegram from the footman and read it, then read it aloud to Rosamund in some disbelief.

"My notion, Mama, is that Robert thinks it might be nice to take his wife to a ball, as they've been asked to one, to have a night of frivolity instead of coming back here to a night of dreadful boredom." Rosamund smirked to herself. Perhaps her plan had worked. Robert hated balls. Only under the most auspicious of circumstances would he have consented to go.

"I don't know why he decided to take Cora on this trip to London anyway. What did he think? That he would make everything better here by taking her away for a few days?" Violet scoffed.

Rosamund rolled her eyes. "Mama, they needed some time alone together. They haven't since their first weeks of marriage. And those couldn't have been exactly comfortable for either of them."

Violet pursed her lips together. "And an extra day? If he was going to be gone so long, we could have had the house opened. I don't even want to think of the cost of another night for them to stay in that ostentatious palace."

"Robert must think Cora is enjoying her time there, or else he would have brought her home." Rosamund looked her mother in the eye. "Besides, it's on her anyway, isn't it?"

Shoving the telegram into her needle work basket, Violet aimed a withering stare at her daughter. "Rosamund, you really shouldn't say everything you think."

"Trust me, Mama, I don't say everything I think. If I did, I'd be in disfavor with you far more often than I already am." She bent over her embroidery again. "Let Robert and Cora have their fun. Lord knows they don't get any here."

"Humph," Violet grunted, ringing for tea.

* * *

Earlier that morning, Robert had again woken with his wife's head on his chest, her body nestled comfortably against his. He watched Cora sleep for a while, reflecting over the past two days, flexing his still sore fingers, and hoping she might wake up early enough that they would have some time to themselves before her maid was supposed to arrive.

And they would get to be here like this for another night. Robert smiled thinking of this.

Then, remembering something from last night, he frowned a little. While they had been out at the restaurant, Cora had excused herself to visit the ladies' dressing room, and Robert had overheard some men talking at a table behind theirs. Apparently the story of Cora's drunken behavior the night before, as well as his performance that afternoon, had gotten around their set in London. Sighing, Robert listened to them, they apparently completely oblivious to the fact that he could hear them. Or perhaps they didn't care if he heard. Robert just hoped that none of it would get back to Cora. While none of it was particularly bad, in his opinion (he'd certainly heard far worse things about others), he knew Cora would take any criticism to heart and believe she'd failed him somehow. He hoped she never heard any of it. The one drawback to their remaining in London another night – and especially to attending a social function like a ball – was that the chances of Cora hearing any version of this gossip increased considerably.

When she got back, Robert pretended he'd heard nothing and bent his attention upon entertaining her and making her smile. At least in that he was successful. The rest of their evening was successful as well. They'd abstained from having any champagne at dinner, but Robert chuckled when his valet brought up yet another bottle with him afterwards, knowing it was Rosamund's doing. Robert and Cora drank champagne together and spent a glorious night most deliciously entwined on her bed.

And, true to his vow to himself, his silent promise to her, he had stayed – indeed, had never thought of going – once again that night, waking to realize that, even in a strange place, he seemed to sleep better with her in his arms.

Robert didn't have to wait very long for her to wake, and, lifting her head, she rubbed her eyes and smiled at him. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Cora. How did you sleep?" He brushed her hair back from her face, over her shoulders, smiling back at her.

"Very well, Robert. And you?" Cora stretched like a cat, pressing herself against him.

Robert's eyes glazed over at this contact, and it took him half a minute to recall the question. "Marvelously." He watched as she continued to stretch, aware that his body was beginning to react to her skin brushing his. "Er, Cora? I think we might have time to…"

Pausing, Cora glanced at his face, and then moved her eyes down, noticing the blankets were not quite flat over him anymore. "Oh my. Well, yes, I think we do have time to, erm, um – "

Leaning over suddenly, Robert stopped her ramblings with a fiery kiss. Soon her hands were all over his body, and it wasn't long before he rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body, thrusting into her with the intensity of his need, Cora's whimpers of desire and cries of bliss spurring him on.

When they had both had achieved their release, and they lay together recuperating, Cora gazed at her husband lovingly, grazing her fingers over the dark curls on his chest. "Now that's a nice way to wake up, isn't it?" she whispered.

"Mmmmm…" Robert murmured his assent as he bent down to kiss her neck.

Laughing lightly, Cora moved her hand from the hair on his chest to the hair on his head, brushing her hand through it. "Robert," she said gently. "We don't have time before she brings the breakfast tray to do it again." Then she whispered throatily in his ear, "Unfortunately."

Sighing, Robert unwillingly sat up, looking down at her and caressing her face. "I'll see you in a bit, then." He gave her a tender kiss, then got up to leave.

Robert noticed that he hated leaving her.

* * *

The two strolled around London again, Cora having them stop to purchase a couple of pairs of kid gloves for the ball that night, these somehow being overlooked in the packing. Not that they had expected to go to a ball, of course. After this, they went into a bookshop together, wandering separately among the shelves, exchanging grins when they happened to see one another.

About an hour passed this way, and Robert, beginning to feel hungry and noting the time, having found a book he'd been looking for, went in search of his wife. He found her standing with a large book open in her hands, staring intently at the page in front of her. Walking up to her, he stood at her elbow, turning his eyes upon the page to see what had captured her so.

The book seemed to be about archaeology, including plates of the discoveries the scholars had made. The plate at which Cora stared featured a stone tablet of some sort, upon which had been carved a series of pictograms and the images of a man and woman, with their children. Robert was a student of history, but this was outside of his sphere of knowledge.

"Who are they?" he asked her.

Cora continued to look at the page. "The Egyptian pharaoh Akhenaten and his wife, Nefertiti, and their three daughters."

He recognized the name. "The heretic? The one who is called the first monotheist?"

Nodding, Cora went on. "Yes. Also, the style of art during his reign was unusual. Instead of being portrayed as perfect, this pharaoh – everyone really during the period – was shown in a more natural way, although he looks quite odd. Also, he had them depict his queen, the chief royal wife, as equal in stature to himself, and often in family poses with their daughters. It was unheard of." She paused, and Robert heard her swallow, as if something was in her throat. She ran a finger lightly over the figures. "He must have loved her very much."

Robert cringed slightly, closing his eyes, trying to block out the wistfulness in her voice. He knew she didn't mean to hurt him, but somehow hearing her say this did. He had to stop himself from sighing. "It's time for luncheon, Cora."

Cora placed the book on the shelf slowly, turning to him with a small smile. "Yes. I'm ready."

He held up his own book. "You go on outside, while I purchase this. I'll be just behind you."

"Alright." She turned and left him standing there.

Once he was sure she was gone, Robert pulled the Egyptology book off the shelf and put it with his own, bringing them both to the clerk. He wasn't sure why he wanted to buy it for her, but he did. He requested that the books be delivered to their hotel for them, adding her gloves to the parcel.

Cora looked at him when he stepped out of the shop a few moments later, puzzled. "Where is your book?"

"I told them to deliver it, as well as your gloves, to the hotel. I didn't want to carry them around." He held his arm out for her to take. "Where would you like to have luncheon?" He asked her, hoping to divert her attention elsewhere.

They spent another lovely afternoon together, having luncheon, finding a park to walk in, then taking tea at the hotel's tea room before going back upstairs to their suite.

Letting Cora get changed for the afternoon, Robert extracted the Egyptology book from the parcel and hid it under the pillow of the bed in which he hadn't yet slept. He wanted to give it to her as a gift, but he wanted to wait for the right time.

Cora waited only a few moments after her maid had left the suite before she stepped into the sitting room, her tea gown a pale shade of lavender. She wore a wide smile and tugged the newspaper out of his hands before sitting on his lap.

"Don't tear my tea gown this time," she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and whispering into his ear. "I don't think my maid believed me when I said I caught the yellow one on something yesterday."

"Well, we'll just have to divest you of it before I get driven to the point of madness this time, won't we?" His hands around her waist, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the top of each of her breasts, making her shiver in delight.

"It sounds most prudent, Robert." She placed a finger under his chin to lift his head so she could kiss him.

The rest of the afternoon passed wonderfully in this manner, and Cora had her tea gown intact when her lady's maid came to dress her for the ball. Choosing another new dress for the evening, cream colored with gold trimmings, Cora instructed the maid to pull the laces even tighter on her corset, as the design of the dress called for an even slimmer waistline than her other frocks. It was somewhat difficult to take a deep breath, but the dress looked stunning, and Cora was most satisfied with the results.

She was even more satisfied when she went into the sitting room and Robert's reaction upon seeing her was as unguarded as it had been two nights before. Blushing, Cora kissed his cheek before they wrapped themselves up to go out. He could barely take his eyes off her.

Once they arrived at Lady Margaret and Lord Henry's London house, Robert and Cora parted briefly – he into the men's dressing room and she into the ladies' – to divest themselves of their outer garments, Cora also making sure she wasn't disheveled after they had spent the carriage ride groping one another. Robert met her coming out of the dressing room, and offered her his arm once more. As they entered the ballroom, Robert couldn't have been prouder of the woman next to him. In his opinion, she surpassed every other woman in the room by leaps and bounds, and his chest swelled with such pride – and gratitude that she was his – that he felt it might burst.

He only hoped she felt the same of him.

As was proper, they greeted their hosts, then danced the first dance together. Robert then spent the next few dances watching Cora dance with other men. What he hadn't counted on when accepting the invitation for a ball was how he would feel as he sipped champagne and saw her smiles and observed how other men ogled her unabashedly.

Robert endeavored to do his duty by their hosts, by her, so he wouldn't embarrass anyone unnecessarily by acting the part of the wallflower (most reprehensible behavior at a ball, he knew), dancing a few dances with other women, mostly the wives of his acquaintances, doing his utmost to be a pleasing partner. But his eye was drawn to Cora, always. Every time one of her partners would make her laugh, his chest would tighten. Every time one drew close enough to speak in her ear – the volume of the music making this necessary – he felt his blood grow warmer.

After several dances, Robert came up behind where she sat on her chair looking at her dance card. Leaning down, he whispered to her. "I see you aren't engaged for the waltz."

Cora looked up at him. "No. I suppose I'll be sitting those out."

Robert knew the waltz was her favorite. He took her hand. "No. You won't." Pulling her out of her chair, he led her onto the floor.

Blushing profusely, Cora protested, "Robert, it's bad manners for us to dance more than one together. We're supposed to be socializing."

For all her expostulating, Robert knew from her voice and her demeanor that she was secretly elated. It reassured him. "I know, but it would be a shame for you to have to sit out every waltz." His arm encircled her waist and he took her hand in his as the musicians began. He whispered in her ear, "As it's your favorite."

Cora blushed harder and her eyes shone as they moved through the dance. The only awful thing was Robert could not hold her as close to him as she wished he could. Neither one took their eyes from the other.

Robert claimed every waltz until supper. When at supper, Cora found she couldn't eat. Her corset was too tight, and she was both too nervous and too happy to eat.

After supper, Cora and Robert each danced a few dances with acquaintances, then another waltz together. In a break on her dance card, Cora left the ballroom for the ladies' dressing room, feeling a trifle too warm. On her way there, just before she turned to enter the hallway which would take her to the dressing rooms, voices reached her, and what they said made her put her hand to her mouth to cover her gasp.

Cora stood there, just before the entrance to the hallway, too intent on what she heard to realize she was eavesdropping.

"How crass!" came one woman's voice. "It's so like an American to be drunk and kiss her husband – and from what I heard it wasn't only kissing – in a public place. How mortified he must be!"

"Madeleine!" exclaimed a voice that Cora recognized as Lady Margaret, their hostess'. "How ungenerous and unfair of you. I know your husband has had to drag you out of restaurants inebriated before. And from what I hear, he doesn't enjoy your behavior as it seemed Robert Crawley did hers."

Cora went red listening to them, knowing she should leave, but somehow she had a morbid fascination about what they were saying about her – about them.

"Margaret, I can't believe you invited Sir Alistair too! Did you see how quickly he left after he realized they were here?" Another woman giggled.

Margaret sounded offended. "How was I to know? I sent their invitation yesterday, before any of that happened. I hear Alistair asked her to be his mistress. I can't believe the nerve of him! As I hear, she defended herself beautifully."

_Well, at least I have one friend here_, Cora thought, continuing to listen.

"And Robert Crawley knocked him flat for that!" A different woman chirruped. "I would love if he would do that for me."

"Jane Noorington!" cried the voice Cora now recognized as Madeleine's.

"I'm sorry. I've always been a little in love with Robert Crawley. And he would never give me a second glance." Jane sounded crestfallen.

"Of course not, Jane. No one would give _you_ a second glance." This drew a number of twitters from the group.

"Jane, don't look so gloomy. Someone will fall for you," came one sympathetic voice among them.

"Not the way he has for her. Have you seen him?" Jane asked.

Cora caught her breath as Margaret answered, "Of course we have. He's like a different man. Do you see the way he looks at her?"

Their voices seemed to fall fast and thick upon Cora's ears now, her head beginning to spin: "When she enters the room, he can't keep his eyes away from her," "He's so attentive – did you see the way he fussed over her at supper?" "And his rude behavior in dancing with her for every waltz – Robert Crawley would never be intentionally rude. He's fallen for her, mark my words," "I agree, I've never seen him thus," "He's clearly in love with that American," "Do you see how jealously he looks at the other men when they dance with her?" "Someone has finally caught Robert Crawley's heart…"

Wishing desperately she could take a deep breath, Cora clutched the molding surrounding the hallway entrance. Her vision went blurry…. and then… she collapsed.

* * *

Robert was summoned to his wife's side as soon as someone found her unconscious on the floor just off the main hallway of the house.

Lord Henry ordering everyone back from them to give her air, Robert knelt beside her and lifted her head onto his lap, caressing her face. "Cora, wake up, please?"

Lady Margaret knelt on the other side of her. "She'll be alright, Robert," she said, touching his hand gently in reassurance, her voice compassionate. She saw very clearly the fear in his eyes. "It's only a swoon, I'm sure. I saw how little she ate at supper."

Nearly wild with worry, Robert couldn't hear her. He stroked Cora's hair and pleaded with her, "Please, darling, wake up. Please."

Finally, one of the other women brought Lady Margaret her smelling salts, and she held them under Cora's nose.

Gasping, Cora awoke, and the first thing she saw was Robert's face, tears glistening in his eyes. "Robert," she said faintly.

"Oh, thank God," Robert breathed, still stroking her hair.

Lady Margaret looked from one to the other, then touched Robert's hand again. "Robert, you should get her back to the hotel. She needs rest, food." She looked down at Cora. "You have a good husband here, my dear. He's been most attentive."

"Thank you, Lady Margaret," Cora said, still a bit breathless. Then her eyes turned to Robert. "He is the most remarkable of men."

"Let's get you back," he said, his eyes only leaving hers for a moment to thank Lady Margaret for helping them.

Supporting her, Robert walked out into the hallway with her, waiting while friends of theirs got their things out of the dressing room. Being one of the first couples to leave, they didn't have long to wait for their carriage, and the night air seemed to help Cora breathe easier anyway. Once he'd bundled her in, she leaned against him heavily, and he put an arm around her, still very alarmed and concerned.

Inside the hotel, he stopped briefly at the desk with her to ask for their attendants to be sent up immediately as well as some food. Margaret had been right. Cora had eaten nearly nothing at dinner, and Robert thought it was at least one reason why she'd fainted.

Still supporting her, Robert got her into the suite and onto her bed, refusing to leave her until her maid came to undress her. Only then did he return to his own room to change into his night clothes.

Robert had his valet open the door for the waiters to bring in and set up the food, and then dismissed him for the night. He cracked the bedroom door just enough to watch for when Cora's maid left, and when she had, Robert knocked on her door.

"Come in," Cora called.

Opening the door and slipping inside, Robert saw her propped up on the bed. "Cora? Are you alright?"

Giving him a soft smile, Cora said, "Yes. I'm fine." She chuckled a bit. "I fear in my vanity and in my desire to please you, I may have had my corset too tight. I couldn't eat, and I couldn't breathe properly."

Robert crossed the room and sat on the bed, taking her hand. "Cora, why would you do that? You don't need to impress me in such ways." His voice and aspect were all concern.

She shrugged. "I don't know, Robert. I just… wanted to make you proud of me."

Kissing her hand, Robert shook his head. "You don't need to do such things for me to be proud of you, Cora. You looked lovely tonight, radiant, but you always do."

Smiling at him, Cora blushed. "I'm sorry I worried you. I… there were a number of reasons I fell into a swoon like a weak woman." She chuckled again.

Robert nodded. "You ate hardly a thing at supper. If you can get up, they've brought food." He looked at her. "But if you'd prefer to stay here, I can bring you something. Please, Cora, you have to eat." There was an urgency and determination to his voice that wouldn't be gainsaid, even if Cora wasn't starving anyway.

"I'll get up. I'm better now that I'm not in that corset." She squeezed his hand.

Helping her out of bed, Robert led her over to the small dining area, sat her down, piled her plate full, and set it in front of her.

Cora laughed. "I couldn't eat all that if I truly was starving, Robert."

Robert sat next to her and looked at her, still worried. "Eat what you can, darling."

Cora fixed him with a long stare. Then she did as he bade and ate heartily of what he'd set in front of her. Finally, she pushed the mostly empty plate away, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her serviette.

"Better?" Robert asked.

"Yes, much," she answered, smiling at him, then turning in her chair to look at him more intently. "I heard some very nice things about you tonight."

"Did you?" He seemed surprised. "I can't imagine what. Will you tell me?"

"Oh, there were a number of things. But the main thing was that you appeared happy." She placed her hand in his.

Robert bent his head to look at their hands, then laced his fingers through hers. "I am happy," he said.

Cora gazed at their hands too, feeling slightly lightheaded once more.

"I am happy because you seem to be happy too," he added, bringing her hand up to kiss it gently, then lifting his eyes to her face.

Feeling her eyes grow moist, Cora took a deep breath. "I am."

Robert smiled at her. "Let's get you back into bed. I don't want you to get overly tired, and we have a long day tomorrow."

Taking his arm, Cora let him lead her to the bed. After he took her dressing gown from her and tucked her up into bed, Cora looked at him somewhat fearfully. "Now what?"

Looking at her curiously, wondering what she had in her head to look at him in such a way, Robert replied, "Now I have a gift for you, but I have to get it out of my room." Kissing her forehead, he said, "I'll be right back."

Retrieving the book from under his pillow, he blew out the candles in his room and then in the rest of the suite before going back into her room and closing the door behind him. He got into bed beside her, nestling close to her and putting one arm around her shoulders before placing the book on her lap.

Tears stung her eyes as she recognized it as the book she'd been examining in the bookstore. "Robert, I don't know what to say." She turned to look at him.

Drawing closer to her, he bent his head to whisper into her ear, "You don't have to say anything, Cora." He opened it to the page they had been looking at before, the pharaoh, his queen, and their children. "He's looking at her very tenderly, don't you think?"

Cora nodded, silent tears falling down her cheeks. "Yes. And she adores him. I can tell."

"I agree with you, Cora. And he must have loved her very much. It's written in his face." Robert kissed her temple, playing with her hair, knowing she'd left it loose for him.

"It is, isn't it?" Cora didn't mean for him to answer this. And he didn't. He simply pressed another kiss to her hair.

A little later, they fell asleep, propped up against the pillows, the book between them. Cora's head and hand rested on his chest, and Robert's head rested upon hers, his hand upon her hair, as if he had been stroking it when slumber claimed him.


	6. Every minute from this minute now

Cora's lady's maid appeared slightly earlier than usual the next morning, with the intent to begin packing her mistresses things for the trip back to Downton. Shutting the door quietly behind her after she entered the bedroom, she turned and let out a sharp squeak of surprise. Her mistress wasn't alone.

Waking to an odd noise, Robert opened his eyes and saw the maid, who appeared frozen – whether in disapprobation or astonishment he couldn't tell. Blushing at being found in his wife's room, albeit with his dressing gown still on, Robert lifted his head from the top of Cora's, where it'd been all night. He did this rather too precipitately and grunted involuntarily in pain. This, paired with his movements, consequently woke Cora, and she sleepily looked from Robert to her maid, who still hadn't moved – didn't seem to know exactly how to act in this situation, never having been in it before.

Giggling slightly, Cora moved the large book sitting on their laps aside and got up. Taking the breakfast tray from her maid, she simply said to her, "Might you go down and get another tray? You can put his breakfast on that and bring it in here."

As the maid left the room to carry out these instructions, Cora brought the tray over to the bed and set it on the bedside table so she could climb back up beside Robert. She set the tray up so that he could reach for anything he'd like on it.

It was a few moments before Cora apprehended that Robert hadn't moved. Turning to him, she beheld his baffled expression. "What is it, Robert?" she asked.

"I think we – and then you – shocked the poor woman. Finding me here…" Robert blushed once more at this, then went on, "and then your basically telling her that I would be staying?"

Cora sighed. "What's wrong with that? You're my husband, and I'd like to have breakfast with you. Instead of your having it out there, you'll just have it in here. With me. I'm not suggesting we do this at Downton, of course. It'll be different at home. But we're not there right now, are we?" She looked around at him, taking a bite out of a piece of toast and grinning.

Robert began to grin at her, rubbing his neck and twisting his head gingerly. He took a piece of toast that she'd buttered for him and began to eat it.

"What did you do to your neck?" Cora inquired, sipping her coffee.

"It's the way we slept last night. My head was at a right angle all night, and when your maid came in, I think I hurt it when I jerked it up." He chuckled a bit. "Although, she may have to get used to seeing me in your bedroom in the morning." Leaning over, he kissed her, then smiled widely at her.

"Or teach her to knock," Cora added. "Although that may be too much to ask for."

However, it was not long until there _was_ a knock at the door. Giggling, Cora told her maid to come in, and Robert, making sure his dressing gown was secure, stood and took his own breakfast tray from her. Cora told her to come back in an hour.

Pouring himself tea once he'd gotten settled beside her with his breakfast, he studied the black liquid in her own cup. Wrinkling up his nose, he shook his head. "How do you drink that malodorous beverage in the morning, Cora?"

"I think it smells wonderful. And it helps me wake up. I am very slow in the morning without it, Robert." She laughed. "And it's been quite a mêlée between our housekeeper and me to keep enough of it in the store cupboard at home, I will say."

"I am not surprised. The rest of us don't normally drink that foul stuff."

"Robert, sometimes you are so very English." Cora shook her head merrily and applied herself to her breakfast.

Both continued to eat in silence, only pausing to share smiles. Robert stole a few glances at Cora besides, still concerned about her because of her collapse at the ball the night before. She _appeared_ perfectly well, but he wondered if perhaps they should put off their departure another day.

Apart from that, Robert kept going over and over in his mind the past several days and – leaving aside a few incidents, of course – how happy they'd been. Even simply falling asleep holding her last night…to him it had been perfect. Then her words drifted back to him: _It'll be different at home_. She'd meant breakfast, he knew, but it gave him pause. _What if it _is_ different at home?_ he wondered. _What if everything goes back to the way it was? What if I lose my happy Cora again?_

Stabbing a bite of ham with his fork, he frowned. He didn't want everything to go back to the way it was. He'd already decided he wouldn't leave her alone at night anymore. But what if that wasn't enough? Or what if she decided she didn't _want_ him there with her at night?

For perhaps the first time in his life, Robert didn't want to go back to his beloved Downton.

Setting his fork down, Robert cleared his throat. "Cora, I think we should stay here one more night."

Cora swallowed the mouthful of coffee she'd just drunk and drew her brows together, puzzled. "Why?"

Taking her hand, Robert pushed her hair back off her shoulder with the other. "You collapsed last night, and I want to make sure you're completely alright before we travel."

Laughing a bit, Cora squeezed his hand. "Robert, I'm perfectly well. I swooned because of my own silliness, having my corset too tight and not able to eat, and then the stuffiness of the room…." She wouldn't tell him that what she'd overheard had set her heart racing to a point where she could barely breathe either.

"Even so…" he said, kissing her hand. Robert lifted his eyes to hers. "It would ease my mind if we stayed one more night. We can rest here today. Together."

Looking into his eyes, Cora believed that, even beyond normal concern, she could see fear there. Her own countenance turning serious, she nodded. "Of course, Robert. We'll stay here another day, if it will reassure you."

A slow smile wreathed his lips. "Thank you, darling," he said in a low voice, kissing her hand again before he began to move. "I'll get dressed and go downstairs and take care of everything. I want you to finish your breakfast, relax, and perhaps wear one of those lovely tea gowns. No corsets today, please, Cora. I want you to be able to breathe. I'll be back in just a while." He leaned over one more time to kiss her cheek before disappearing from the room with his breakfast tray, leaving his wife a trifle dazed at his haste.

* * *

"Violet, I beg you to relax." Patrick Crawley sat in the library at Downton, his hands gripping the arms of his chair in vexation. Not because of the contents of the telegram they'd just received, but because of his wife's behavior upon its reception.

Violet, grasping the telegram, barely paused in her pacing the length of the room. She gave the appearance of a caged tiger, desiring to pounce but unable to do so. "How can you tell me to relax? What has happened to our son, Patrick?"

"I don't think anything has happened to him. He's concerned for the health of his wife, so far as I can tell from the telegram."

Rolling her eyes, Violet threw her arms out wide. "He's taken leave of his senses. There's nothing harmful about taking the train, and nothing is _less_ salubrious than the filthy air in London. If he was concerned for her, he would have brought her straight back home to Yorkshire."

Patrick fixed her with a dissatisfied look. "That's hardly fair, Violet. You don't know what's wrong with her."

"Well, how long will they stay? A week? A month? Will we get a new telegram every day, telling us they'll be 'one more day'? It's most inconvenient, Patrick. Not to mention inconsiderate. Robert should be here to help with the estate. And what if I had planned a dinner?" She stopped pacing to glare at him, as the true object of her pique was not there to receive it.

Sighing, Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb and closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. "Then, Violet, you would be two people short, wouldn't you?" He looked at her again and saw that she was about to lose her temper. "Please, darling, let the two young people have some time away. They need a little fun."

Violet had started to turn her head, but did a double take at this. "I swear, Patrick Crawley, you sound just like your daughter." Turning on her heel, she left the room in a huff.

Patrick chuckled and shook his head, saying to himself, "Yes, but she gets her stubbornness from her mother."

* * *

When Robert got back upstairs from arranging everything for another night – sending a telegram home, booking the suite and the servants' rooms, changing the train tickets once more – Cora was tucked up on the settee, reading, her tea gown a delicate sea green. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Everything all set?" She rested her book on her lap.

Giving her a kiss, he replied, "Almost. I have one more thing to do, Cora. I'll be back before luncheon. I've requested that they serve it up here for us."

Cora pouted. "You're leaving me again?"

Robert chuckled. "I won't be long, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing her again. "And then you'll have me all to yourself."

Brightening considerably at this, Cora told him not to be long and went back to reading her book after the door closed behind him.

Humming the tune to one of the waltzes they'd danced together the previous evening, Robert hailed a hansom cab to visit the finest jewelry house in London. He wanted to get Cora something very special.

Shaking hands with one of the clerks, Robert asked him for a particular sort of thing, and the clerk led him to a glass cabinet. Scanning over the pieces in the case, he began to despair that he would find the right gift for her. Then, he spotted it. Grinning, he pointed it out to the clerk, who praised his choice and retrieved the item from the case.

Robert began humming happily again while wandering around the shop, waiting for the clerk to wrap the gift and put it on his account. Eventually, he became aware of a man hovering near him.

"So, that's how you keep her happy, eh? Buying her expensive jewelry." Sir Alistair's jaw was a deep purple, and he sounded like it pained him to move it very much.

Unfazed, Robert chuckled. "It amazes me that such a reputable house would let in such riffraff." He started to walk away.

Alistair followed. "Tsk, tsk – using a woman's own money to buy her things to win her over. It's quite reprehensible, that."

Robert's face darkened, but he didn't respond.

"You'll never make her happy, you know. You don't love her." Alistair's voice had lowered.

Knowing the man was baiting him, Robert simply clinched his fists and kept moving among the cases, determined not to cause another scene.

Alistair continued to hound him, hissing, "It's only a matter of time. She'll grow tired of waiting…."

Robert ground his teeth together, his brows drawing together dangerously. Still he refused to stoop to this blaggard's level.

In his oily voice, which was seriously grating Robert's nerves now, Alistair taunted, "And eventually, one day – probably sooner, rather than later – she'll come crawling, begging me to show her what real love is…."

Rounding on him furiously, Robert meant to give the fellow a severe dressing down. But before he could, Alistair socked him in the eye.

Robert's mouth fell open in astonishment, his hand covering his eye. "Bloody hell, man! What was that for?"

The clerk, having gotten everything settled, hastened over and stepped between the two. "Gentleman, this is a genteel establishment, so I suggest you take such things outside!" he said in a severe voice.

"He was going to hit me again!" Alistair cried pathetically, puffing out his chest and endeavoring to look taller, but there was nothing that he could do to get even close to towering over his opponent.

"I was going to do no such thing, you ridiculous buffoon! I was merely going to give you what for – even though what you _deserve_ is to be well and thoroughly horsewhipped, you despicable coward!" Robert turned red with renewed anger. "Now if you will both excuse me, my wife is waiting. Good day!"

Snatching the parcel from the clerk, one hand still over his eye, he made a sharp about face and marched out, leaving both men staring after him.

When Robert entered their suite a little later, Cora jumped up from the settee, smiling. Her cheery countenance transformed swiftly into alarm, however, when she saw that his hand concealed his eye. "Robert! What happened?"

Letting her lead him over to the settee by the hand, Robert sighed. "Don't worry. They're sending more ice up with luncheon."

"Let me see." Cora grasped his wrist in order to pull his hand away. When he finally allowed her to, she gasped and put her hand over her mouth. "Robert! Please, tell me what happened!"

Seeing how upset she was already, Robert was loath to tell her the truth. But he knew he had to. It would be worse if he lied; the truth was bound to get back to her some other way. "I ran into that scoundrel Alistair. Or, to be more accurate, his fist ran into my eye."

"But how – when – why?" She found it difficult to form a complete sentence.

Robert passed a hand over his forehead, sighing once more. "I was in the jewelers and for whatever reason, he was there too. He began saying all sorts of contemptible things to me, taunting me, Cora. I tried not to respond, but the last thing he said was so vile – I snapped. I turned around to give him a sound tongue-lashing – nothing more, I promise – and…he punched me."

"Oh, Robert, darling. What a despicable coward to punch you like that!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

He grinned at her choice of words. "That's exactly what I called him, Cora. The clerk stepped between us then, but even if he hadn't, I wouldn't have dignified that bastard's actions by punching him back."

"Language, Robert!" Cora pretended to be offended.

"I apologize, Cora, but he's that and much worse. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of coming to fisticuffs in the middle of the store, or even outside on the pavement. But after what he said, I truly would have liked to have throttled him." He touched her face. "Knowing you were here waiting for me, most likely wanting me to arrive relatively undamaged, is the only thing that stopped me. I might have really hurt my hand this time." He chuckled, even though that action was becoming a bit painful to his eye.

Cora didn't laugh. "What did he say?"

Robert's smile vanished. "I'd rather not repeat it, Cora. None of it is fit for the ears of a lady, and all of it would simply make me livid again."

"It must have taken a great deal of fortitude for you to resist hitting him first, if it was as bad as that." She looked down at their hands.

"It did. But I could because it was different from the other day. He can say whatever he likes to me or about me. But not to you. And the only thing that made me want to turn and shout at him this time, was – " Robert stopped abruptly.

Cora looked up at him. "He said something about me, didn't he?"

"Yes."

She thought about asking him what, but the expression on his face told her that he wouldn't tell her. Instead, she asked, "Whatever it was, you don't believe him, do you?"

Robert gave her a small smile and shook his head. "No, I don't."

Cora gave him a small smile in return. "Good," she whispered.

At this juncture, a knock at the door announced that their luncheon had arrived.

* * *

The two ate rather quickly, Robert because he had very little appetite, Cora because she wanted to get ice on that eye before too long.

Once the luncheon had been cleared away and the waiters gone with it, Cora sat down in a corner of the settee with the ice and her book. She patted her lap. "Come here, darling, and put your head on my lap. I'll read to you."

Robert wasn't sure he would care for the book she had – he'd seen earlier that it was Jane Austen – but he liked the idea of being where he could look up at her beautiful face with at least one eye. Removing his shoes, he stretched out on the settee, lying on his back with his knees up, and rested his head on her lap.

Cora handed him the ice, not wanting to hurt him by trying to apply it to his eye herself. She also must have realized that he wasn't there to really hear the story, because she didn't bother to begin at the start of the novel, but picked up where she had left off reading herself. Soon she was absentmindedly threading her fingers through his hair while she read aloud.

The ice doing wonders to numb the pain in his eye, her hand stroking his hair, Robert became incredibly relaxed, and the sound of her sweet voice lulled him to sleep like a lullaby. He slept until a trickle of cold water from the melting ice slid down his temple, waking him. Not wanting to interrupt Cora's reading, he sat still and began to listen to the words as well.

She had gotten close to the end of the book now, as he could discern with his one eye. From what he could tell, a woman named Lizzy had fixed on marrying a man named Darcy, and Lizzy was speaking with her sister Jane about it. "'You will only think I feel more than I ought to do, when I tell you all,'" Cora read. "'What do you mean?' 'Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.' 'My dearest sister, now be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me how long you have loved him?' 'It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began – '"

Robert stopped listening.

He stopped listening because he thought he knew how Lizzy had felt. _"It's been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began…." _The words echoed inside his head, and images of the last few days, and then the last few months, flashed through his mind. Things spoken between the two of them, between him and Rosamund, him and his mother – these joined the phrase echoing in his head.

Suddenly it struck him, like a lightning bolt – quick and sending electricity all through him: _I love her. I love Cora._

Tearing the melting ice from his eye, he sat up abruptly. Cora, startled, released the book, and it fell to her side. "Robert? What's wrong?"

Robert had rolled off the settee and now knelt before her, clutching her hand in his, gazing up at her, looking quite wild with his hair tousled and his eye turning black and blue. "Oh, God, Cora, can you ever forgive me?"

Cora wondered what had gotten into him. "What do you mean? Are you alright?" She thought perhaps he was becoming feverish, so she put her other hand out in order to feel his forehead.

Before she could do so, Robert caught this hand in his, holding both her hands in her lap in front of him. "I've been such a fool. A blind imbecile. How did I not see it before?"

Becoming frightened now, Cora tried to draw her hands away. "Perhaps we should send for a doctor, Robert. You're not making any sen—"

"Cora. Please, look at me."

His tone gently beseeched her, so she obliged, going very still when she saw a kind of light shining in his eyes.

"Cora, I love you. I _love_ you."

Staring at him in disbelief, Cora could do no more than choke out, "What?"

Robert stood up, still holding her hands, pulling her up to stand in front of him. He took one of his hands away in order to cup her cheek. "I love you, Cora Crawley," he said in a soft voice, with an equally soft smile. "I love you, and I've been a complete idiot not to realize it sooner. But it's like the woman just said in your book, that it's been coming on so gradually –"

Cora clamped a hand over his mouth, smiling, tears in her eyes. "Robert, do you know you've just made me the happiest woman in the world?"

He shook his head, as her hand was still preventing him from speaking.

"Well, you have. I can't even tell you how much." Her tears coursed down her cheeks, and her blue eyes sparkled as she beamed at him. "Words aren't enough."

Robert gently pried her hand from his mouth. "Tell me you love me too. That's all I need."

Brushing tears from her face, she laughed softly. "I love you, Robert," she whispered. She leaned up and kissed him tenderly, then said again, "I love you, my darling."

"Cora, my sweetheart, my darling one…." He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her gently at first, and then with increasing passion. He wanted nothing more than to show her just how much he loved her. Forgetting the pain in his eye, forgetting that someone would be knocking on their door soon to bring afternoon tea, forgetting everything else but Cora, he swept her up impetuously, carrying her into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

Laying her upon the bed, Robert crawled up next to her, and, with great care, he trailed tender kisses along her skin, pausing only to remove articles of her clothing or to smile at her. He attended to her in a manner that was an act of worship, of adoration, paying no mind to his own quickening blood or growing need.

For Cora, lying there – in all honesty, still endeavoring to wrap her mind around his pronouncement that he loved her – there was a difference his awareness made in the way he caressed her, the way he kissed her. As if he saw her as more precious than he did before. She was not only his wife or even his lover. She was the woman he loved. _He loves me_, she thought. _He loves me_. She almost began crying again with happiness.

And then, quite unexpectedly, he touched her with his tongue.

Cora practically jumped out of her skin. Her reflections had somehow made her unaware that his kisses had settled in the area of her thighs, and then her inner thighs, and now…. Now she couldn't think at all, only feel and gasp and shudder and writhe. And now his fingers had joined his mouth, and it carried her to a place quite beyond her body. Her back arched up,and she wasn't sure where she was anymore, but it was a glorious place.

After her eyes rolled back to their normal spot in her head and her toes uncurled themselves, Cora, still panting, looked at Robert, who had left the bed to divest himself of the rest of his own clothing, fixing her with a wide smile.

"I wasn't quite ready for that, darling." She smiled back at him.

"No?" he asked. "You appeared to enjoy it immensely," he teased, throwing the last of his garments on the floor and joining her again on the bed. He looked down at her, propping himself up with his elbow, his head in his hand, playing with the ends of her hair with his other.

"Oh, make no mistake. I enjoyed it. Very much." Cora grinned at him. "When did you think of that?"

"I was inspired by you, actually. You started it." He winked at her.

"Might I return the favor then?" She waggled her eyebrows at him wickedly.

Robert leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I think watching you get excited before got me excited enough already. I'm not sure I can wait much longer, darling, to feel you around me."

Cora blushed deeply. "Robert," she whispered, placing her hands on his chest and then brushing her fingertips over his nipples, "I can't wait much longer either."

Needing no more encouragement, Robert covered her, looking down into her eyes, caressng her face. "I love you, Cora."

"I love you, too." She nodded at his silent question, giving him permission.

As he moved against her, Robert pressed his lips to her ear. "I love you," he hummed softly, over and over until she had climaxed again, and then until he could no longer speak himself, eventually achieving his own release and becoming still, his heavy breathing ruffling her hair.

A little while later, having remained entwined, Cora traced a finger lightly over his face, carefully avoiding the purpling bruise. "That's going to take a while to heal, my love."

Robert just smiled, not caring that it hurt a bit. "It's no matter. At least he didn't knock me flat, as I did him." He chuckled. "I believe that perturbed him a good deal, that I was still taller than he was."

Cora's face puckered slightly. "Robert? Did you say you were at a jewelers?"

"Yes, sweetheart." Then he remembered that he'd never given her the gift. "Oh! Give me a moment." He kissed her on the forehead, then got off the bed. He rifled through his discarded clothes until he got to his jacket on the bottom of the pile. Removing the parcel from his pocket, he brought it over to the bed, climbing back up and turning the bedclothes back. He slipped beneath them, then patted the place beside him for her to join him. "I don't want you catching cold over there."

Grinning, Cora sat next to him, and he tucked the blankets up around them. Then he handed her the parcel. She opened it, then nearly dropped it in her haste to turn and kiss him.

"I think she likes them," he said, half to himself, when she'd finally released him to admire the gift.

"Oh, yes. I do like them. Very much." She touched the earrings with her forefinger. They were emerald green scarabs, set in beautifully worked gold settings, very delicate and fine.

Robert had his arm wrapped around her shoulders and he gave them a squeeze. "I remembered that symbol on the Egyptian carving we were looking at yesterday. And the color reminded me of that particularly fine scarf you were wearing the other night…." He leaned over and nibbled on her ear.

Cora giggled. "That tickles." She closed the box and put it aside, then turned and leaned her head on Robert's shoulder, taking his other hand and knotting her fingers through his. "Robert? May I ask you something?"

Kissing the top of her head, he replied, "Of course you may, sweetheart. You may ask me anything you wish."

"Why didn't we go home today?"

He began playing with her hair, something becoming a habit with him. "Because I wasn't sure you were well enough yet."

Cora sighed and kept her eyes on their hands. "No – I mean, that may be true, but it was only one reason. There was something else. I saw it in your eyes this morning."

It was Robert's turn to sigh now. "You'll think me ridiculous."

She turned her head to look up into his face now. "I don't think so. Try me."

"Alright. Well, everything had been going so well between us, I was – " Could he say it? "I was afraid that when we got back to Downton, everything would be different. That it would go back to the way it was before. And I didn't want it to."

"Robert. That's not ridiculous, to be afraid of that. But it's not true. It won't go back. Not now. Not that we've had all this. It's not the place that matters. Not anymore." She lowered her eyes. "Besides, your heart is my home. Not Downton. Wherever you are, that's where I'm home. I know it's not the same for you, so you don't have to try to say it. But it's true for me. Downton, here, anywhere."

"Oh, Cora." He kissed her head again, smoothing her hair back. "I think you're right though. I see it now – now that I've had my revelation." He chuckled a little. "I love you. And it doesn't matter where we are. That won't change."

Cora looked up at him again. "Then we'll go back to Downton tomorrow for sure?"

"Yes," he nodded. "We'll go home tomorrow."

Bringing his hand up to her lips, she kissed it. "I love you, Robert."

He realized it didn't hurt anymore for her to say it. In fact, it felt marvelous. "I love you, too, Cora."

And it felt even more marvelous to say it back.


	7. We'll walk from this dark room

The train ride to London several days before could not have been more different from the train ride home. For one thing, Robert and Cora sat on a seat together, rather than on opposite sides of their private compartment, Robert's arm around her shoulders, unmindful of anyone who might happen to walk past and peek in their window. For another, the only silences were those when Robert would steal a cheeky kiss from his wife. The rest of the train ride, they leaned close to one another, talking, their fingers intertwined.

They'd spent an intimate evening together, having dinner sent up to them, as well as another bottle of champagne, then celebrated the rest of night until they were exhausted and fell asleep. When the next morning there was a hesitant knock on Cora's bedroom door, Robert merely chuckled, kissed his wife, resumed his night clothes and dressing gown, and let the maid in on his way to his own room. The morning passed all too quickly in packing and getting ready for their departure. Both were somewhat contemplative at luncheon, knowing it would probably their last alone together for a while.

But it was with a new sense of excitement that Robert helped Cora onto the train and settled them into their compartment. When he had first brought her to Downton to live, his mother had been the one to show her the house, the grounds, to begin imparting to her what it would mean to be the Countess of Grantham and the expectations she would have to live up to, to show her the duties and things necessary to carry out said duties, to impress upon her the form and function of Downton and its importance in the county. Now Robert was eager to show the woman he loved the Downton he loved. He wanted to take Cora to his favorite childhood haunts and show her where he and Rosamund had hidden from dreadful relatives when they would visit and his treasured places to sit and read. He couldn't wait to walk with her in the gardens and point out all the beauties of the grounds and estate, and tell her his memories of it, what he dreamed for its future. He longed to pull her into every room of the house and kiss her, to make every room theirs, the house _their_ home and not just his, to demonstrate to her that he very much wanted her there with him, to live a splendid life together.

Robert was not fool enough to suppose that Cora would ever love Downton the way he did. Downton was in his blood and in his bones in a way Cora might never fully understand and certainly would never be able to feel. But Robert thought that perhaps, given time, he could get her to appreciate it and to love it as their home.

His excitement was infectious. Cora discovered that she was looking forward to finding her way around her new life again. She knew it wouldn't be easy; the realities of her chosen course that had manifested themselves to her in the past months were still there. But now…. In the book of her new life there had been a blank page she'd reserved just for Robert. Over the past month or so, she had begun to fear that it would remain blank forever. But now, written upon it were the last few days and his declaration of love. And so, whenever she felt the expectations and realities in the rest of the book threaten to overwhelm her, she could go back and read these beautiful things over and over.

And there would be so many new pages to add. She saw now that one blank page wouldn't be nearly enough to write in all the lovely things to come.

* * *

After the train ride spent talking, laughing, and kissing, the carriage brought them to the house, and they arrived in an almost jubilant mood. Footmen took their coats and hats, and the butler informed them that the family awaited them in the drawing room. Robert took Cora by the hand as they walked down the hall together.

An outcry from his mother met them at the door. "Robert! What in heaven's name…!"

They had forgotten about his black eye.

"Mama, don't fuss. It's nothing." Robert kissed his mother's cheek.

"Nothing? Robert Crawley, a black eye is not 'nothing'!" Violet examined his face. "How did it happen? Did you walk into a door? Did a horse kick you in the face?" Her tone was sarcastic.

Robert sighed, squeezing Cora's hand. "No. I was punched in the eye."

"I suppose this is the true reason you stayed in London another day? It wasn't Cora who needed rest, it was you who didn't want to face me! Well, what else can we expect? Letting an American into the family," Violet railed.

Cora shrank back during this speech. Patrick stood there with his head in his hands, as if he knew there was nothing he could do to stop his wife from saying what she would. Rosamund sat in a chair, watchful. And Cora could feel Robert's hand tighten around hers and his body stiffen as his mother continued: "Of course there will be brawls and shenanigans an Englishman – a Crawley! – would never imagine – "

"Mama!" Robert hadn't meant to shout, but he could bear it no longer. "I beg you will not talk about Cora as if she isn't in the room. I will also hasten to point out to you that everything you just said is wrong – in every particular!"

Violet stood there, mouth open in shock, staring at her son – her son who had never dared raise his voice to her, even during their most heated arguments. Cora gazed at Robert in wide-eyed, naked adoration. Patrick's head snapped up, looking at Robert with a mixture of awe and confusion that he would speak to his mother thus, to defend his wife so vehemently. Rosamund's visage remained unchanged, save the twitching at the corners of her mouth.

Robert guided Cora to a chair and stood beside it, still holding her hand. "If you had asked me, I would have told you, Mama. Cora was in our suite yesterday, _resting_, as I requested her to do after she had swooned at Lady Margaret's ball the night before. It was whilst she was resting and I was out that a man – I hesitate to call him a gentleman, although I suppose in the strictest sense he is – taunted me, and when I turned to give him what for, he punched me in the eye. I will have you know, Mama, that it was neither a brawl nor were there any shenanigans. And he _was_ an Englishman. It had nothing to do with Cora." He knew this last part was an equivocation, but he refused to tell his mother about the part that _did_ involve Cora.

During this speech, Violet had made her way to a chair, still staring at her son, more convinced than ever that something had gotten into him.

"Now, if we may continue, I'd like to greet my father and sister." Robert let Cora's hand go in order to shake hands with his father.

Patrick raised his eyebrows at the hand Robert extended to him. "Son? Are you sure there wasn't a brawl?" Taking his son's hand to shake it, he turned it so he could better see the bruises on his knuckles and fingers.

Another thing Robert had forgotten.

"Oh, right. That." He pulled his hand from his father's grasp and walked over to Rosamund, bending down to kiss her cheek before sitting in the chair next to Cora's and taking her hand again after she, too, had greeted everyone.

Patrick poured himself a drink and sat down. "Yes. That," he said.

Robert looked sheepish. "Well, that was a separate incident." He cleared his throat and looked at Cora, whose smile seemed to be somewhat pained.

"_That_ may have been my fault," Cora admitted, pressing her husband's hand.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Humph," she exhaled, as if to say, "See? What did I tell you?"

But Robert would have none of that. "No, Cora. It was not your fault. It was his. And mine, for letting my temper get the better of me. I shouldn't have punched the fellow."

"I can't hear any more of this," Violet said, standing abruptly. "I'll see you at dinner." Without another word, she marched out of the room.

Patrick spared only a glance for her retreating form. He was too used to his wife's ways to be surprised by her action. He simply wondered that she'd stayed quite so long. Turning back to Robert, he asked, "Do I really want to hear any more of the story, son?"

Shaking his head, Robert chuckled. "I don't think so, Papa. It's better left untold, I believe." He glanced at Cora, who lowered her lashes and blushed.

Seeing his daughter-in-law's reaction, Patrick decided he wouldn't risk embarrassing her further by pressing for details of what must be a very interesting story. "Just one question, Robert. Is the man who hit you yesterday the same as the one you punched?"

Robert nodded. "The very same, sir."

"Yes, a very interesting story indeed..." Patrick mumbled to himself as he drained his glass.

"Well, if you will excuse us, Rosamund, Papa – Cora and I had a long trip, and I think we could both use some rest before dinner," Robert announced.

"Sure, sure," Patrick said, nodding and waving a hand at them absently.

"See you at dinner, you two," said Rosamund, her eyes a little bit mischievous and fixing Robert with a look that meant he would have to tell her the whole story later.

Once upstairs, Robert went into his bedroom and Cora into hers. Robert waited for a while, in hopes that it was long enough for her lady's maid to have been and gone, then knocked lightly at the door that divided their apartments.

Obtaining her consent to enter, Robert opened the door and smiled at his wife, who was lounging on her chaise in the corner of the room. Gently pulling the book she'd been reading out of her grasp, he brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it.

Cora smiled back at him, whispering, "My hero."

"Oh, Cora, that's done," he said modestly.

Laughing softly, Cora corrected his misapprehension. "I meant your mother, darling. That was quite a show. I'm not sure she'll ever forgive you for it." She stood in order to properly express her gratitude with a long, tender kiss, her hand stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.

Robert grinned after she'd ended the kiss. "Are you tired?"

Continuing to run her fingers through his hair, Cora shook her head, keeping her eyes on his. "No. I'm not tired at all." She leaned up and whispered in his ear, "We've still some time before the dressing gong, Robert."

Needing no more encouragement, Robert bent his head to kiss her neck and began working the fastenings on her tea gown. He'd gotten quite adept at ridding her of this particular type of garment without ripping it, he thought.

A little while later, Rosamund, walking by Cora's bedroom on the way to her own room, heard what sounded like stifled cries and high-pitched noises through her sister-in-law's door. Smirking, she sauntered on by.

* * *

Cora was the last to appear in the drawing room before dinner that night. Violet seemed to have decided she wasn't speaking to any of them, ensconcing herself in her chair and staring straight ahead, her expression sour. Patrick, Rosamund, and Robert ignored her, accustomed as they were to her moods and fits of pique, the three sitting together and chatting about the estate, Rosamund's new beau, and the parts of the trip to London Robert felt he could disclose without embarrassment to either himself or his wife.

When Cora entered, Robert's eye was immediately drawn to her and a smile wreathed his countenance. Rosamund's eye was drawn not to Cora but to her brother. Patrick was still speaking, unaware that Cora had entered or that neither of his offspring was listening to him anymore.

Cora, her own eyes having automatically rested on her husband's face, met his smile with one of her own. She'd taken great pains that night to look just right – even more pains than she had in London, for she knew no one scrutinized her more than his mother. And after their familial meeting this afternoon…. Well, she knew she needed to redouble her efforts where her mother-in-law was concerned.

"Robert? Robert, are you even listening? I was asking you a question." Patrick sounded slightly annoyed, so Robert turned his attention back to him.

"Sorry, Papa. My mind wandered for a moment." Catching Rosamund's eye, he grinned faintly.

"I'll wager it did, brother," Rosamund remarked, one eyebrow raised, but also grinning. "Excuse me, if you will. I'll go keep Cora company. I don't think she'll get any more conversation from Mama than we have." She touched her brother's hand briefly as she left them, gliding over to join Cora.

Very soon dinner was announced and the family made its way toward the dining room. Robert held Cora back to walk behind the others, whispering, "You look beautiful, darling."

Cora blushed, looking down at her dress, smoothing her gloved hands over the emerald green scarf that she'd fixed into a kind of sash around her waist – a secret message just for him.

Walking closer to her, he whispered again, "The earrings suit you, although they aren't nearly so fine as the ears they adorn." She was also wearing the scarab earrings he'd bought her. He lowered his voice even more, "And green is a particularly lovely color for you, Cora," he said, tacitly acknowledging the scarf-turned-sash, causing Cora to blush harder, grinning, unable to speak.

Just before they parted to take their seats at the table, Robert whispered one more thing to her, "I do hope your corset isn't too tight, my dear. You need to eat…to keep your strength up…for later…."

Giving her a tiny wink with his good eye, Robert stood behind his chair, waiting with his father for the ladies to sit first. Cora looked up at him through her lashes, unable to hide her smile or her reddened cheeks.

Violet looked from one to the other of them and rolled her eyes. _Dear God, _she thought, _I don't know if I can stay in the same room with these two making eyes at one another like this. _Then it hit her. His odd behavior. Staying extra nights in London. His shouting at her, defending Cora. His holding his wife's hand this afternoon, and the way he looked at her when she'd entered the drawing room just a while ago (this, of course, not having escaped Violet's notice – rarely did anything escape her notice), their making eyes at each other across the table….

Robert had fallen for the American.

Violet nearly gasped at the realization, looking up from her plate to glance from one to the other again. Cora could hardly eat for smiling so much, and Violet had never seen her son look at anyone the way he looked at his wife. He looked…lovestruck.

Perhaps it was for the better. Violet knew that Robert had to marry an heiress to save Downton, and it had pained her that he would have to marry for that reason over all others. She did know that the heart did not exist for the sole purpose of pumping blood, and she did want her son to be happy. And now he could be. Because she discerned it _was_ love and not just a passing infatuation for his wife inspired by a trip they'd taken on a whim. She knew because the way he was looking at Cora was the same way that Patrick used to look at her when they were younger.

And still did on occasion, truth be told. Violet tore her eyes from her son and his wife and turned her gaze upon her own husband, her face softening a trifle. When Patrick lifted his head to take a drink of wine, he noticed his wife's expression and smiled at her, hoping that this meant she had forgotten her irritation with her family. She smiled back at him, causing him to unknowingly emulate his son's lovestruck look. Violet blushed slightly, pleased.

Rosamund glanced from one to the other of her family and rolled her eyes at all of them. However, she chuckled to herself, reaching for her glass and toasting her own guile and perception. Her plan had clearly worked.

* * *

When they had finished dinner, the ladies walked back to the drawing room while Robert and Patrick stayed behind for a brandy.

Patrick lit his pipe and puffed upon it for a few moments before addressing his son. "You really aren't going to tell me what happened in London? The cause of that?" He pointed at Robert's black eye with the stem of his pipe.

Robert put his brandy on the table, slowly rotating the glass and staring down at it. "I'm not sure I should, Papa. I think it would embarrass Cora if I told you."

"You've grown quite protective of her." Patrick said this as though it were a revelation to him. His son glanced up at him, and Patrick went on to say around the stem of the pipe, "Might I hazard a guess that that very impulse had something to do with the bruised hand and black eye?"

Nodding and looking his father straight in the eye, Robert replied, "It had everything to do with it, sir."

A smile crossed Patrick's face. "Then that's all I need to know." Taking the pipe out of his mouth, he leaned forward, reached around, and clapped Robert on the back several times. "Welcome to the club, son."

Picking up his brandy glass, Robert looked at him in some confusion. "The club?"

Patrick's smile grew wider. "Yes. The club where you love your wife and would do anything – anything – to protect her and her honor."

Robert grinned. "Is it that obvious, Papa?"

"Plain as the nose on your face. Or, to put it more aptly, as plain as that black eye." Putting the pipe back in his mouth, he puffed a few more times, then chuckled and said, "I punched a man because of your mother once."

Nearly choking on the brandy he'd just drunk, Robert sputtered and coughed. "Pardon?"

"She never told you that story, did she?" Chuckling again, Patrick removed the pipe to take a sip of his own brandy. "Well, I won't go into the whole thing, but, really, some things should never be said to a lady. Fellow learned his lesson, I'll bet. Knocked him flat."

Robert had another sip of brandy before remarking, "Mama seems to have conveniently forgotten this then, since she was so adamant earlier about my 'brawling' being because of Cora and her 'Americanness.'"

"Oh, son, you know your mother."

"Yes, Papa, I do. And she seems bent upon making Cora feel like an outsider for as long as possible. I wish she wouldn't." Finishing his brandy, Robert put his glass on the table once more. "Shall we go through?"

Patrick nodded and stood, taking a last drink and knocking his pipe out into the ash receptacle before replacing it in his jacket pocket. "Do me one favor, Robert."

"What's that, Papa?" Robert paused before the door, turning to look at his father.

His face completely serious, Patrick answered, "Don't punch your mother."

Robert wasn't sure whether to be shocked or offended. When Patrick began to laugh at the expression on his son's face, Robert knew he should be neither. He simply rolled his eyes. "Sometimes you have the most appalling sense of humor, Papa."


	8. I won't waste a minute without you

As her lady's maid got her ready for bed, Cora couldn't seem to stop herself from beaming. Almost everything around her had taken on a different aspect. Truth be told, she had been wondering over luncheon that day whether things would really have changed when they got back to Downton. She'd feared that Robert, once home, seeing his mother again, anticipating resuming his usual daily tasks, might revert back to the husband he'd been before.

But he hadn't.

Robert had held her hand in front of his family, he had defended her to his own mother, he had spent time with her in the afternoon instead of out on the estate, and he had been openly flirtatious with her at dinner and then again when he'd come back into the drawing room with his father.

It appeared that Lady Margaret had been right in her observation that Robert Crawley was a different man. He was quite obviously – to everyone who saw the two together – a man in love.

Cora blushed thinking of it all, never expecting that she could be so blissfully happy. She dabbed a little more of her perfume behind her ears while her maid busied herself with her mistress' garments. Glimpsing in the mirror a bit of green among the things to be put away, Cora turned in her chair and said, "Leave the scarf out, please."

She grinned at her own reflection in the mirror and hastened to dismiss her maid, so she could complete her preparations for the rest of the evening.

When Robert scratched upon the adjoining door a little while later, Cora wasn't disappointed in his reaction after he'd entered the room. His face lit up, and he crossed the room to her, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her gently, then whispering, "From the moment you walked into the drawing room with this wrapped around your waist, I'd hoped you would wear it like this again for me tonight. There is only one thing wrong here."

Cora chuckled and asked, "What's that, my darling?"

Reaching up around her, he bent his head and said into her ear, "Your hair is most inconveniently pulled back. Let me loosen it." He'd been untying the band that held her hair back as he spoke, and, once undone, he flung the band onto her dressing table and threaded his fingers through her dark locks. Tilting her head back slightly, Robert looked into her eyes. "That's much better," he remarked approvingly before crushing his lips to hers again in a delicious kiss.

Only a few moments passed until Cora began unfastening the buttons of his nightshirt with nimble fingers, parting the fabric and grazing his chest as they kissed. Robert's hands left her hair to run over her body through the scarf, then slipped beneath the scarf to touch her more intimately: to caress the curve of her hip, to cup her bottom, to fondle a breast, to leave a trail of fire along her inner thighs, deliberately avoiding sliding his hand any higher between her legs, in an attempt to heighten her desire for him.

It worked. "Robert," she breathed, hissing in his ear now, "please."

Robert was becoming increasingly well-versed in how she expressed what she wanted, and with this, he knew she needed to feel his skin against hers. Quickly ridding himself of his night clothes, Robert turned to the knot on the green scarf. Cora curled her fingers around him, grinning. Fumbling, reaching the point of incoherency because of what she was doing, Robert whispered, his eyes closing, "Cora, I can't do _this_ when you're doing _that_."

Giggling, Cora took her hand away from him while he finished unknotting the scarf, then, draping the scarf on the chaise, she climbed on the bed, looking over her shoulder and wiggling her behind at him. His eyes glazing over, Robert scrambled to join her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her on top of him. Cora let out a little shriek as she landed with her chest against his, giggling, then fell silent as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her. She reached a hand around and began stroking him, loving to hear the guttural noises of pleasure he made.

Bending his head to kiss her neck, Robert slid his hands down her back to squeeze her bottom. Purring with delight, Cora spoke in his ear, "Sit up, darling. I can't wait any longer."

Not even completely cognizant of doing so, he sat up, propping himself against the pillows as she positioned herself in front of him, a leg on either side of his. Before she would do anything else, however, she put her fingers beneath his chin and lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers.

Again, somehow knowing exactly what she needed, Robert reached up and caressed her face, smiling at her. "I love you, Cora." He rubbed his thumbs tenderly along her cheekbones.

"I love you, Robert." Leaning forward, Cora put her lips on his as she lowered herself upon him, resting her hands on his hips. Slipping her tongue into his mouth, she began rolling her own hips, making Robert moan.

Robert slid one arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, kissing her even more deeply. He sneaked his other hand between them, his fingers seeking the place where their bodies were joined, knowing he had found the right place to stroke his fingers when she gasped against his mouth, her eyes flying open. "Oh my," she murmured, closing her eyes once again and resting her forehead against his, beginning to move in a more feverish way as he continued the motion of his fingers.

Cora had evidently reached a place where she could no longer even kiss him, could only gasp and pant and writhe against his fingers, his body, until a wave seemed to break over her. Robert felt her tighten around him, her breathing growing even heavier, and he knew he could so easily get carried away upon the same wave. But, no. He wanted for it all to last as long as possible, wanted to give her as much pleasure as he could, felt an overwhelming need to make up for all the staid, almost indifferent, duty-bound coupling that had occurred in this room in the past months.

And so, drawing her head down to kiss her again, his hand still between them, he endeavored – and was marvelously able – to bring her to where that wave would crash over her again – and again – and yet again – until he could hold out no longer and finally succumbed to the same wave of exquisite pleasure himself. Leaning back heavily against the pillows, Robert pulled Cora with him, embracing her tightly and whispering against her hair with what little breath he had left, "I love you."

Robert could feel her smile against his neck as she ran her hands lightly up and down his sides. "I love you, too, darling."

For quite a while Robert simply held her, both of them agreeably fatigued. Then Robert began to play with then ends of her hair that fell over his hands on her back. As he twisted her dark tresses around his fingers, he thought of something he wanted to share with her.

"Cora?"

"Yes, my love?" She kissed his neck lazily.

"Are you very tired? I have something I want to show you, but only if you're not too exhausted."

"No, I'm not too tired, Robert."

Robert gently pulled her away from him and looked at her, smiling. "Good. I'll be right back." Kissing her forehead, he climbed off the bed and began putting on his night clothes.

"Where are you going?" A crease appeared on Cora's brow.

He looked at her, somewhat excitedly now. "I have to go get what I want to show you. I won't be long, Cora."

He exited the room through the adjoining door, putting on slippers and picking up a candle to light his way. Then he made his way through the darkened house to the library.

Raising his candle, Robert scanned the titles quickly, murmuring, "Wordsworth, Wordsworth, Wordsworth," almost under his breath. Finally locating it, he removed the volume from the shelf with a triumphant, "Ha!"

"Wordsworth? Not Shakespeare or Browning?" a voice asked behind him.

Yelling in fright, nearly dropping both book and candle, Robert wheeled around, clutching the book to his chest. Rosamund sat in her dressing gown, nestled in a corner of the settee, her legs tucked up under her, enveloped in a blanket. "Bloody hell, Rosamund, you startled me! What are you doing sitting here in the dark?"

"Mama and I had a fight. An awful one, Robert."

Coming closer to her, the small pool of light cast by the candle hitting her more directly, Robert noticed her hands were wrapped around a glass of Scotch and her face was tearstained. He knew then that their argument must have been truly awful. Rosamund rarely ever drank Scotch, and she _never_ cried.

Robert put his candle down on a table and placed the book next to it. He sat beside his sister and looked at her, wanting to take her hand or put an arm around her shoulders, but he wasn't sure she would like him to. "Would you want to tell me about it?"

Rosamund nodded, squeezing her eyes shut against fresh tears. "I went to your bedroom to talk to you before, but you weren't there." Opening her eyes, she saw that he was about to say something, but she stopped him. "No, don't apologize. You couldn't have known. Besides," she said with a grin, "I was hoping that you two would become closer during that trip. It makes me happy that at least one of us will have something like that."

"Oh, Rosamund." Unable to help himself, he pulled the cuff of his dressing gown down over his hand and used it to wipe her tears. "You have no idea how grateful I am to you." He looked at her, remembering the things she'd said to him before he and Cora had even left for London, the "surprises" she'd arranged. "You saw something I didn't see, didn't you?"

Nodding again, Rosamund smiled wider. "It was how very much you wanted her to be happy, Robert. You wouldn't care so much if you didn't –" She hesitated, unsure if he'd actually realized for himself the true depths of his own affection for Cora.

He finished the sentence for her. "If I didn't love her, you mean?" Now Robert was the one nodding. "Rosamund, I don't know how long it would have taken me to come to my senses if you hadn't pushed us together like that. We needed that time alone – _I_ needed that time alone with her, needed to see her. To focus on just her. I'm really not sure I could ever thank you, dear sister." Impetuously, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "But, thank you."

Grinning, Rosamund unwrapped one of her hands from the glass she held and placed it on his arm. "All part of being your sister, Robert. And I see the scarves must have been put to good use." Her lips twitched with mirth, her eyes sparkling by the light of the candle.

Shaking his head, Robert leaned back against the settee, grinning now as well. "You have no idea, Rosamund." He chuckled. "I'm not sure I'll see an emerald green scarf the same way again. Or a bottle of champagne for that matter."

Giving a low laugh, Rosamund squeezed his arm. "So you punched a man, did you? And the same man punched you a few days later? What a story that must be!" She tactfully steered the conversation away from scarves and champagne, knowing if he said anything more he would most probably blush. She knew all she wanted to know about that from the looks those two had exchanged throughout the evening – as well as his presence in Cora's room that afternoon and absence from his own room when she'd sought him out earlier.

"It is." Robert proceeded to tell it – most of it, at least – knowing that Rosamund would be discrete and that Cora would probably tell her own version of it to her sister-in-law later anyway.

"Goodness gracious, Robert! What a contemptible little man!" She shook her head, incredulous that a person could be so reprehensible. "But Cora must have thought you quite the champion."

Robert blushed, remembering her calling him "masterful" and telling him that seeing him punch Alistair had been exhilarating for her. "I think she did, Rosamund. Although I really hit that bast— um, er, fellow because I simply lost my temper."

"For good reason, so far as I could see. Propositioning her in the middle of a tea room? Probably knowing you would come back at any moment? What audacity!" Rosamund sipped her whiskey, pulling a face.

Seeing this, Robert tried to take the glass from her. "Perhaps you shouldn't be drinking this."

"Don't take it, Robert. Your story and this Scotch are the only two things that are making me feel better about myself right now." She held onto the glass with a viselike grip.

Robert let go of the glass, but he moved his hand only slightly, putting it on top of hers. "What did you and Mama fight about, Rosamund?" His voice was soft.

Rosamund lifted her eyes to his. "Marmaduke."

"Your new suitor?" Robert kept his hand on hers since she didn't seem to mind his having it there.

Nodding, Rosamund swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Except he's not really all that new, Robert. I've known him since my first Season." Unexpectedly, to her brother at least, Rosamund turned her hand over, grasping his. "I kept putting him off, knowing Mama wouldn't approve. He's everything I knew she would hate. He's new money, he's untitled, his family is in trade, he's unrefined, he's probably too old for me…" She trailed off, sighing and looking down.

"At least he's English," Robert pointed out.

Chuckling wryly, Rosamund tilted her head to the side. "Yes, well, he has one point in his favor that Cora doesn't, I suppose." She looked up at her brother again. "He's stayed by me, Robert. When all the other suitors, some of them I actually might have seen myself marrying, when they all fell away, for one reason or another – probably my sharp tongue, intimidatingly keen intelligence, and unladylike sense of humor, not to mention my formidable mother – he was always still there. Marmaduke loves me, Robert. And tonight I told Mama I love him too." She pressed his hand. "But she won't hear of the match."

"I'm so sorry, Rosamund." As happy as he'd been in the past few days, and especially as he owed so much of it to her machinations, he hated to hear this news from his sister. In a way, he didn't approve of Marmaduke anymore than their Mama did. But he did want Rosamund to be happy.

"I told her, Robert. I told her that I don't care about all of those other things. I'm not meant to be Countess of Grantham, so what difference does any of it make? Not to mention that after a few Seasons, the bloom goes off the rose, and one is more a survivor than anything else. Who else is going to take notice of me?" She took a long drink of Scotch before adding, "Even if I wanted them to – but now I wouldn't want anyone else. Marmaduke is the only one of them who has ever made me laugh."

Robert sat and looked at his sister. He knew what she meant. It was one of the reasons that he chose Cora in the first place, because she amused him. He thought of the past few days and what his father had told him earlier that night. "Tell me something, Rosamund. Would Marmaduke punch a man for you? Take a punch for you?"

Rosamund met his eyes, seeing that he was very serious. "Yes, I believe he would, brother. Without hesitation."

Nodding slowly, Robert bent to kiss her on the cheek once more. "Then that's good enough for me. Mama will come around, Rosamund. What about Papa?"

"Oh, I think he wants his little girl to be happy, Robert. If I have the two of you on my side, perhaps Mama will reconsider. And if she doesn't? Well, I'll just have to run away with him, won't I?" She smiled at him.

"Please don't do that, my dear. I want to be there when you get married." He smiled back.

"Well. We shall see." Squeezing his hand one more time, she fixed him with a questioning look. "Is Cora asleep?"

Robert's eyes opened widely. "Oh, God, Rosamund. I told her I'd be right back. She might be asleep by now – I've been down here an age."

Rosamund's face softened. "Go on then. I'll be fine. I have my Scotch still." She leaned over and kissed his cheek this time, letting go of his hand. "Thank you, Robert, for cheering me up. And goodnight."

"Goodnight, Rosamund," he said, gathering his book and candle and hurrying from the library.

* * *

Cora sat up in bed and stared at the clock. Robert had hurried out of the room so quickly, she thought when he said, "I'll be right back," it meant that he would be back in a matter of minutes. Perhaps ten, depending upon where he had gone to get whatever it was he wanted to bring back.

But as the minutes passed, Cora grew nervous, then she began to watch the clock. Five minutes passed, then fifteen. Getting up, Cora retrieved her nightdress and pulled it over her head because she was cold, then got back into bed, drawing the bedclothes up around her.

Half an hour had gone by. Cora got up again and peeked into Robert's dressing room. It was all dark, and at least he wasn't in his bed. She climbed up on her bed and picked up her book, peering at it in the candlelight.

Forty-five minutes. _Where_ had he gone? Cora put her book down, trembling. Perhaps he wasn't coming back tonight. Perhaps he wasn't in his dressing room because he didn't want to face her for some reason. She went over and over the evening in her head, and there was nothing she could think of that might make him not want to come back. He had _said_ he would come back. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn't keep the negative whispers from her mind.

He'd never slept in her bed with her here. Maybe when faced with the reality of it, he couldn't do it. Maybe he told her he'd be right back as an excuse. He thought she would fall asleep and not notice he hadn't returned. He vacated his dressing room to make sure. So he wouldn't hurt her feelings….

But her feelings were hurt. It was nearly an hour since he'd gone. Nothing he would have had to go get would have taken so long. And now she was convinced he wasn't coming back to her room that night.

Perhaps everything wasn't that different after all.

Heartbroken, Cora tied her hair back again, blew out all the candles, and crawled into bed, curling into a ball and pulling the blankets up over her head. Crying.

Robert crept up the stairs and through the hallways as quickly as he could without his candle going out. He went into his bedroom and then quietly opened the dividing door to Cora's room. It was all dark, and Robert thought it was strange that not one candle would be left burning if Cora had simply fallen asleep waiting for him.

Then he heard odd choking noises – sobs. Cora was crying. First Rosamund and now Cora. _What on earth is going on?_ Robert thought.

Hastening to her side of the bed, he placed book and candle on her bedside table, then sat next to where she lay curled under the bedclothes. Twitching these back, Robert asked softly, "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Cora didn't move. Her hands were over her face, muffling her voice. "Go away, Robert. You don't want to be here."

Robert put his hand on her back and flinched when she pulled away. "I don't know what you mean, Cora. Of course I want to be here!"

She uncovered her eyes and stared at him, almost hatefully. "You obviously don't. Over an hour, Robert. You've been gone over an hour."

A realization clutched at his heart, remembering her looks whenever she thought he would leave her at night. He kept his voice soft, his eyes pleading for her to understand. "Cora, darling, I'm so sorry. I went downstairs to get a book, and I meant to be gone only long enough to find it and come back. But Rosamund was in the library, and she and Mama had had a fight, and she was crying." It still amazed him that two of the women in his life were crying in one night. "I couldn't just leave here there. The time got away from me. Please, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

Cora appeared to have calmed down a little. She sniffled. "Rosamund? Your sister Rosamund was crying?" She sounded skeptical.

Robert nodded. "I couldn't believe it myself. She was drinking Scotch too. You see why I couldn't just leave her?"

Looking in his eyes, Cora could see that he wasn't making any of it up, difficult as it was to believe. Perceiving this, Cora sat up abruptly and threw her arms around his neck, crying again, but this time with relief, scolding herself for doubting him. "I thought you weren't coming back. It's absurd, and I know it, but I just…when almost an hour had passed, and you weren't here, I thought—"

Holding her tightly in his arms, Robert rocked her gently, stroking her hair. "I know, darling. I know. I'm sorry. I'm not used to having someone to come back to. I shouldn't have been so thoughtless. Look, Cora, may I tell you something?" Feeling her nod against his neck, Robert went on. "That first morning that I woke up with you in my arms? I knew that I always wanted to wake up with you. And I realized, too, that the night before, you were afraid I'd leave, even after everything we'd shared. I knew why you thought that – because that's what had always happened before. But, Cora, sweetheart…" he paused and drew back from her to look her in the eye, "I promised myself that I would never do that again. The only things that will keep me from sleeping in here with you are extreme illness," he began to chuckle here, "or extreme vexation with me on your part. Which I hope won't happen too often, but I'm sure it will at some point, darling, with your husband being as stubborn as he is." He smiled at her and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry, Robert," she whispered. "For doubting your word. You did say you'd come back."

"I did. But it was a long time, and I'm sorry for _that_." He traced his thumbs over her tearstained face and kept gazing into her eyes. "Truly, though, I love you, sweetheart, and I can't imagine anything better than to know I'm going to sleep in the same bed with you and wake up with you beside me."

Finally, Cora smiled at him. "I can't either, my love."

Robert kissed her tenderly, and then wrapped his arms securely around her again, wanting so much for her to feel safe with him, to know how much he would do to protect her and keep her happy.

After a little while, Cora whispered, "What did you want to show me? Or did I spoil it with my hysterics?" She laughed faintly, hoping the joke wouldn't go amiss.

"No, of course not, darling," he chuckled a bit. "Let me light a few more candles so I can see better." He pulled himself out of her arms, and stood, lighting the candle on her bedside table, and then, taking the book to the other side of the bed, lit the candle there as well. Setting his own down, he took off his dressing gown and climbed up into bed and, sitting up against the pillows, held his arm out to his wife. Cora crawled over to him and tucked the bedclothes around them both, nestling into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his chest.

"Close your eyes," Robert said. "I want to read you something."

Cora obediently closed her eyes, and Robert began to read:

"She was a Phantom of delight  
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;  
A lovely Apparition, sent  
To be a moment's ornament:  
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;  
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;  
But all things else about her drawn  
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;  
A dancing shape, an image gay,  
To haunt, to startle, and waylay."

Robert picked up strands of her hair and wrapped them around his fingers abstractedly, and Cora sighed contentedly, listening to his voice and letting the words sink into her.

"I saw her upon nearer view,  
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!  
Her household motions light and free,  
And steps of virgin liberty;  
A countenance in which did meet  
Sweet records, promises as sweet;  
A creature not too bright or good  
For human nature's daily food,  
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,  
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles."

Here Robert paused to kiss the top of her head, then went on:

"And now I see with eye serene  
The very pulse of the machine;  
A being breathing thoughtful breath,  
A traveller between life and death:  
The reason firm, the temperate will,  
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;  
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd  
To warn, to comfort, and command;  
And yet a Spirit still, and bright  
With something of an angel light."

Once she realized he was finished reading, Cora looked up at him, smiling when she saw that he was smiling down at her. "It's beautiful, darling."

Robert bent his head down a little and whispered, "It's you."

Cora blushed a trifle. "I'm not an angel, Robert, and I'm certainly no 'perfect woman.'"

"You're my angel, Cora, and you're perfect to me." He kissed the top of her head again, and then said, "I think it's what Wordsworth meant. That the woman you love is spirit and human, perfect and angelic to you. And I never understood this poem until you, sweetheart."

"Oh, Robert. I love you so." Cora nestled closer to him, closing her eyes again, yawning. It had been a long day.

Robert chuckled a little. "Alright, my perfect angel. I think it's time we got some sleep."

Cora murmured something that sounded like, "Yes, of course, dearest," against his chest.

Leaning over as best he could with Cora against him, Robert blew out first her candle and then moved back over to do the same with his. Sliding them both down beneath the bedclothes, Robert tightened his arms around his wife, brushing her hair off her face and bending his head to kiss her forehead once more.

"Goodnight, Cora," he whispered against her sweet-smelling hair. "I love you, sweetheart."

Closing his eyes, Robert smiled. Because he honestly couldn't imagine anything better than going to sleep with Cora in his arms. Unless it was knowing that he would wake up with her still there. Cora was the woman he loved, and Robert knew that, for the rest of his life, his own greatest happiness would be to make sure of and to share in her happiness.

Robert thought it sounded like a splendid way to live a life.


	9. Epilogue: I need you to look into mine

A/N: This contains some material that most of you will recognize. It is Julian Fellowes' material and not mine. I am simply borrowing it, and I lay no claim to it whatsoever. But this is the scene which inspired me to write my Valentine's Day fic the way I did, to extend the story beyond the two prompts I used (in Chapters Two and Three). And of course I added a little to it. xx

* * *

Spring, 1912

It had been a disappointing evening, after a difficult and sad number of weeks. Downton had been playing host to the Duke of Crowborough, who ostensibly had his eye on Mary. Robert and Cora had been hopeful that their eldest daughter might be settled favorably still, even after losing the closest heirs to the estate and title, cousins James and Patrick – Patrick being marked out as Mary's fiance – to the sinking of the Titanic.

But the Duke of Crowborough, having found out that Mary wasn't to inherit Downton and all the money that came with it after all, had changed his tune over dinner. Robert was thoroughly put out with the man, and now, getting ready for bed, he was trying to make Cora understand why he wouldn't fight the entail on Mary's behalf. Cora watched him move around the room from her place propped up in bed.

"I try to understand. I just can't," she said.

Loosening his dressing gown tie, Robert sat on the bed. "Why should you? Downton is in my blood and in my bones. It's not in yours. And I can no more be the cause of its destruction than I could betray my country. Besides, how was I to know he wouldn't take her without the money?"

"Don't pretend to be a child because it suits you."

"Do you think she would have been happy with a fortune hunter?" He turned from her, preparing to stand and take off his dressing gown.

Cora said clearly and matter-of-factly, "She might have been. I was."

Robert turned back to her, leaning toward her, his elbow on the bed, looking at her seriously. "Have you been happy? Really, have I made you happy?"

Smiling at him, Cora reached over to touch his hand. "Yes." She ran her hand along his arm, then looked at him and amended, "That is, since you fell in love with me. Which, if I remember correctly, was about a year after we were married."

Robert heaved a small sigh, saying, "Not a year." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Not as long as that," he said, getting up to remove his dressing gown. "But it wouldn't have happened for Mary."

"Why not?" Cora inquired.

"Because," Robert answered, sliding beneath the bedclothes beside her, grinning. "I am so much nicer than the Duke of Crowborough."

Chuckling, Cora replied, "I'll be the judge of that," causing him to chuckle as well. She leaned over to turn down her own lamp, leaving only the candle burning at his bedside. She turned onto her side to face him, saying, "Just don't think I'm going to let it rest, Robert." Playing with the collar of his night shirt, stroking her fingers along his neck gently, she continued, "I haven't given up by any means."

Robert hated disagreeing with her, although it happened often enough. He looked away, rubbing his hair, his forehead, his eyes, as he said, "I must do what my conscience tells me."

"So must I," she replied. Robert looked at her again. "And I don't want you to think I'll let it rest," she added, still running her fingers along his neck.

Knowing his wife's stubbornness, knowing his own resolve, knowing that even through their disagreements they still loved one another, Robert smiled and turned to blow out the candle.

Sliding his arm under Cora and pulling her toward him, Robert remarked, "It wasn't even nearly a year, Cora. Only a few months. Remember?"

Cora ran her fingers along his shirt front. "It felt like a year to me."

"Well, it wasn't. And I'm glad it wasn't. Because you know what, sweetheart?" Robert stroked her hair, as was his habit.

"What's that, my darling?" Cora asked, wrapping her arm around his middle and nestling her head against his shoulder.

"Because my own happiness depends upon yours. I can't be happy if you're not, my love," he whispered.

Smiling, Cora tightened her arm around him. "Then you have nothing to worry about, Robert. You _have_ made me happy. Happier than I ever thought I would or could be."

Robert sighed in contentment and bent his head down in the dark, to kiss his wife. For whom he was still completely head over heels.


End file.
